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FAMOUS    PERSONS 


H 


AND 


PLACES.  I 

t 


BY 


N.    PAEKER   WILLIS 


NEW     YORK: 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER,  145  NASSAU  STREET. 

1854. 


I 


i 


0 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress  in  the  year  1864,  by 

CHARLES   SCRIBNER, 

in  the  Clerk's  OfBce  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 

Southern  District  of  New  York, 


TOBITT's  COMBINATION-TTPm  . 

'    ■  *','  ■' ;  « '■  ^ '  i ; — \ — ."^ — 

• •    '  63  VsSXT    aiRKET,  N.   Y 


PREFACE. 


For  some  remarks  that  should  properly  introduce  much  of  the  con- 
tents of  the  present  volume,  the  reader  is  referred  to  the  Preface  pub- 
lished with  a  previous  number  of  the  Series,  entitled  "  Pencillings  by 
the  Way."  A  portion  of  the  original  "  Pencillings  "  is  here  given,  the 
size  of  the  work  having  compelled  an  imequal  division  of  it,  and  the 
remaining  and  smaller  part  serving  to  complete  another  volume,  with 
some  additional  sketches  of  the  same  character. 

The  personal  portrayings  of  distinguished  contemporaries^  of  which 
this  volume  is  mainly  composed,  wUl,  (as  has  been  abundantly  proved 
in  their  previous  shapes  of  publication,)  ensure  its  readableness.  It 
will  have  a  value,  from  the  same  quality,  that  will  increase  with  time, 
and  be,  also,  independent,  to  a  certain  degree,  of  its  literary  merits. 

397162 


PREFACE. 


Sketches  of  the  men  of  mark  of  any  period  are  eagerly  devoured — 
more  eagerly  as  the  subjects  pass  away,  and  are  beyond  farther  seeing 
and  describing — the  public  rehiring  less  that  they  should  be  ably 
done  than  that  they  should  be  true  to  the  life.  Correctness,  in  such 
pencilling,  is  more  important  than  grace  in  the  art.  And  this  I  claim 
to  have  been  proved  for  these  sketches.  In  the  years  that  they  have 
been  before  the  pubUc,  not  a  single  incorrectness  has  ever  been  proved 
or  even  charged  upon  them.  I  sketched  what  I  saw  at  the  time,  and, 
to  the  best  of  my  ability,  sketched  truly.  With  the  acrid  and  perse- 
vering warfare  that  has  been  waged  upon  them  by  the  critics,  their 
truth  would  have  been  invalidated  long  ago,  if  flaw  or  blemish  in  this 
shield  of  their  chief  merit  could  have  been  found.  Expecting  vague 
charges  of  incorrectness  from  the  malice  of  criticism,  however,  I  have 
accumulated  testimonials  that  have  never  yet  been  called  forth — no 
friend  or  acquaintance  having  ever  been  estranged  or  offended  by  the 
descriptions  I  have  ventured  to  ^ve,  and  subsequent  intimacy  or  ex- 
change of  courtesies  furnishing  ample  proof,  that,  to  such  sharing  of  my 
admiration  and  opportunities  to  see  more  nearly,  the  world  was 
welcome. 

I  will  add  a  few  remarks,  upon  somewhat  the  same  point,  from  a 
previous  Prefiice : — 

For  the  living  portraitures  of  the  book  I  have  a  word  to  say.  That 
sketches  of  the  whim  of  the  hour,  its  manners,  fashions,  and  those 
ephemeral  trifles,  which,  slight  as  they  are,  constitute  in  a  great  mea- 
sure its  "  form  and  pressure  " — that  these,  and  familiar  traits  of  per- 
sons distinguished  in  our  time,  arc  popular  and  amusing,  I  have  the 
most  weighty  reasons  certainly  to  know.     They  sell.    "  Arc  they  inno- 


PREFACE.  vil. 

cent  1"  is  the  next  question.  And  to  this  I  know  no  more  discreet 
answer  than  that  mine  have  oflfended  nobody  but  the  critics.  It  has 
been  said  that  sketches  of  contemporjiiy  society  require  little  talent, 
and  belong  to  an  inferior  order  of  literature.  Perhaps.  Yet  they 
must  be  well  done  to  attract  notice  at  all ;  and  if  true  and  graphic, 
they  are  not  only  excellent  material  for  future  biographers,  but  to  all 
who  Uve  out  of  the  magic  circles  of  fashion  and  genius,  they  are  more 
than  amusing — they  are  instructive.  To  such  persons,  living  authors, 
orators,  and  statesmen,  are  as  much  characters  of  history,  and  society 
in  cities  is  as  much  a  subject  of  philosophic  curiosity,  as  if  a  century 
had  intervened.  The  critic  who  finds  these  matters  "  stale  and  unpro- 
fitable," lives  in  the  circles  described,  and  the  pictures  drawn  at  his 
elbow  lack  to  his  eye  the  effect  of  distance ;  but  the  same  critic  would 
delight  in  a  familiar  sketch  of  a  supper  with  "  my  lord  of  Leicester  " 
in  Elizabeth's  time^  of  an  evening  with  Raleigh  and  Spenser,  or  per- 
haps he  would  be  amused  with  a  description  by  an  eye-witness  of  Mary 
Queen  of  Scots,  riding  home  to  Holyrood  with  her  train  of  admiring 
nobles.  I  have  not  named  in  the  same  sentence  the  ever-deplored 
blank  in  our  knowledge  of  Shakspere's  person  and  manners.  What 
would  not  a  trait  by  the  most  unskilful  hand  be  worth  now — if  it 
were  nothing  but  how  he  gave  the  good-morrow  to  Ben  Jonson  in 
Eastcheap  ? 

How  far  sketches  of  the  living  are  a  breach  of  courtesy  committed 
by  the  author  toward  the  persons  described,  depends,  of  course,  on  the 
temper  in  which  they  are  done.  To  select  a  subject  for  complimentary 
description  is  to  pay  the  most  imdoubted  tribute  to  celebrity,  and,  as 
far  as  I  have  observed,  most  distinguished  persons  sympathize  with  the 


,ai.  PREFACE. 

public  interest  in  them  and  their  belongings,  and  are  willing  to  have 
their  portraits  drawn,  either  with  pen  or  pencil,  by  as  many  as  offer 
them  the  compliment  It  would  be  ungracious  to  the  admiring  world 
if  they  were  not. 

The  outer  man  is  a  debtor  for  the  homage  paid  to  the  soul  which 
inhabits  him,  and  he  is  bound,  like  a  porter  at  the  gate,  to  satisfy  all 
reasonable  curiosity  as  to  the  habits  of  the  nobler  and  invisible  tenant. 
He  owes  his  peculiarities  to  the  world. 

^  *  *  *  «  #  * 

For  myself,  I  am  free  to  confess  that  no  age  interests  me  like  the 
present;  that  no  pictures  of  society  since  the  world  began,  are  half 
80  entertaining  to  me  as  those  of  English  society  in  our  day  ;  and  that, 
whatever  comparison  the  living  great  men  of  England  may  sustain  with 
those  of  other  days^  there  is  no  doubt  in  my  mind  that  English  social 
life,  at  the  present  moment,  is  at  a  higher  pitch  of  refinement  and  cul- 
tivation than  it  was  ever  here  or  elsewhere  since  the  world  began — 
consequently  it,  and  all  who  form  and  figure  in  it,  are  dignified  and 
Intimate  subjects  of  curiosity  and  speculation.  The  Count  Mirabel 
and  Lady  Bellair  of  D' Israeli's  last  romance,  are,  to  my  mind,  the 
devcrest  portraits,  as  well  as  the  most  entertaining  chai-acters,  of 
modem  novel-writing  j  and  D'IsraeU,  by  the  way,  is  the  only  English 
author  who  seems  to  have  the  power  of  enlarging  his  horizon,  and  get- 
ting a  perspectiTe  view  of  the  times  he  lives  in.  His  novels  are  far 
more  popular  in  America  than  in  England,  because  tfie  Atlantic  is  to  u* 
a  cattury.  We  picture  to  ourselves  England  and  Victoria  as  we  picture 
to  ouTMlves  England  and  Elizabeth.  We  relish  an  anecdote  of  Sher- 
idan Knowlea  as  we  should  one  of  Ford  or  Marlowe.    This  immense 


PREFACE.  ix. 


ocean  between  us  is  like  the  distance  of  time  j  and  while  all  that  is 
minute  and  bewildering  is  lost  to  us,  the  greater  lights  of  the  age  and 
the  prominent  features  of  society  stand  out  apart,  and  we  judge  of  them 
like  posterity.  Much  as  I  have  myself  lived  in  England,  I  have  never 
been  able  to  remove  this  long  perspective  from  between  my  eye  and 
the  great  men  of  whom  I  read  and  thought  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Atlantic.  When  I  find  myself  in  the  same  room  with  the  hero  of 
Waterloo,  my  blood  creeps  as  if  I  had  seen  Cromwell  or  Marlborough  j 
and  I  sit  down  afterward  to  describe  Low  he  looked,  with  the  eager- 
ness with  which  I  should  communicate  to  my  friends  some  disinterred 
description  of  these  renowned  heroes  by  a  contemporary  writer.  If 
Cornelius  Agrippa  were  redivivus,  in  short,  and  would  show  me  his 
magic  mirror,  I  should  as  soon  call  up  Moore  as  Dryden — Wordsworth 
or  Wilson  as  soon  as  Pope  or  Crichton. 


CONTENTS 


LETTER  I. 

PAGTH 

Iniineiisity  of  London — Voyage  to  Leith— Society  of  the  Steam  Packet— Analogy 
between  Scotch  and  American  manners— Strict  observance  of  the  Sabbath  on 
board— Edinburgh— Unexoected  recognition  .  .  .  .11 


LETTER  n. 

Edinburgh— A  Scotch  Breakfast— The  Castle— Palace  of  Holyrood— Queen  Mary— 

Rizzio— Charles  the  Tenth  ...  .  .         17 


LETTER  m. 

Dalhousie  Castle— The  Earl  and  Countess— Antiquity  of  llieir  Family    .  .         23 

LETTER  IV. 

Starting  and  Its  Equipments— Roslin  Castle  and  Chapel  •  •  •         S% 


CONTENTS. 


LETTER  V. 

■  Christopher  NorUi"— Mr.  Backwood  The  Ettrick  Shepherd— Lockhart—N(;c:Gs 
Ambnisianse— Wordsworth— Souihey—'aptain  namilton  and  his  Book  on 
America — Professor  Wilson's  Family,  etc.  ...  .34 


LETTER  VL 

Lord  Jeffrey  and    his  family— Lord    Brougham— Count  Flahaull— Politics— Tiie 
Qrey"  Ball— Aberdeen— Gordon  Castle  .... 


LETTER  Vn. 

Gordon  Castle — Company  There— The  Park — Duke  of  Gordon —Personal  Beauty 
of  the  English  Aristocracy  ...... 


LETTER  Vm. 

Boclish  Breakfast— Salmon  Fishery— Lord  Aberdeen— Mr.  McLane— Sporting  E.4- 

lablishment  of  Gordon  Castle     .  .  .         '      .  .  .59 


LETTER  IX. 

Scotch  Hospitality— Immense  Possessions  of  the  Nobility— Dutchess'  Infant  School 
—Manners  of  High  Life— The  Tone  of  ConvorsaMon  in  England  and  America 
Contrasted      ........         00 

LETTER  X. 

Departure  from  Gordon  Castle— The  Pretender— Scotch  Character  Misapprehended 

— Obtervaace  of  Sunday— Highland  ChieOains       .  .  .  .78 


LETTER  Xr. 

Oftledonlaa  Caotl-Dofs— Eoflish  Exclusireness- English  InseDslbUiiy  of  Tino 

8c«n<v7— Plort  Maedoiuld  and  the  Praleoder-  Hifhlaod  Travelling  CO 


CONTENTS.  xid. 


LETTER  XII. 

Ittvarcndeu—Tarbot— Cockney  Tourists— Loch  Lomond— Inversnade— Rob  Roy's 

Cave— Discomfiture— The  Birthplace  of  Helen  M'Gregor   .  .  .87 


LETTER  Xm. 

Highland  Hut,  its  Furniture  and  Inmates— Highland  Amusement  and  Dinner — 

**  Rob  Roy,"  and  Scenery  of  the  "  Lady  of  the  Lake  "         .  .  .04 


LETTER  XIV. 

Scottish  Stages— Thorough-bred  Setter— Scenery— Female  Peasantry— Mary,  Queen 

of  Scots— Stirling  CasUe  .  .  .  .  .        101 

LETTER  XV. 

Scotch  Scenery— A  Race— Cheapness  of  Lodgings  in  Edinburgh— Aobottsford— 

Scott  -  Lord  Dalhousie— Thomas  Moore— Jane  Porter— The  Grave  of  Scott   .        108 


LETTER  XVI. 

Border  Scenery— CoachmanBhip— English  Country-seats— Their  Exquisite  ('omfort 
—Old  Customs  in  High  Preservation— Pride  and  Statelineos  of  the  Lancashire 
Gentry— Their  Contempt  for  Parvenues  .        .  .  .  .        118 


LETTER  XVn. 

English  Cordiality  and  Hospitality,  and  the  Feelings  awakened  by  it— Liverpool- 
Uncomfortable  Coffee-house  there— Travelling  Americams— New  York  Packets 
—The  Railway— Manchester       .  ,  .  .  .  .125 

SECOND  VISIT  TO  ENGLAND   ......       182 

EGLINTON  TOURNAMENT        .  .  .  .  .188 


CONTENTS. 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL  . 

The  Streets  of  London 

London   .... 

London   .... 

London    .  .  .  • 

London    •  .  .  . 

kle  of  Wight— Ryde 

Comparison  of  the  Climate  of  Earope  and  America 

Stratford-on-Avon . 

Visit  to  8tratford-on-Avon — Shakspere 

Charlecote  .  .  . 

Warwick  Castle     . 

Kenilwortb 

A  Visit  to  Dublin  aboat  the  time  of  the  Queen's  Marriage 

Closing  Scenes  of  the  Session  at  Washington 

The  Inauguration  . 

Washington  in  the  Session  . 

Washington  after  the  Session 

'm 
ARTICLES  FROM  THE  JOURNAL. 

LETTERS  FROM  ENGLAND  AND  THE  CONTINENT  IN  1846— '4« 

LETTER  L 


What  the  Wilier  has  seen  of  tliis  Wor'd  for  twenty-four  days— Tho  Passengers  of 
the  Brilannia— The  DiflTerence  Between  the  American  and  English  Custom- 
booM  O.'ncere— The  Working  Claase*— Female  Dress— Bustles— Writing 
•galMt  tba  Doctor's  Orderv,  etc.  .  .  ,  .  . 


217 

229 

235 

241 

247 

234 

259 

266 

271 

280 

291 

29 

297 

306 

S13 

316 

824 

385 


846 


346 


CONTENTS. 


LETTER  II. 


LETTER  m. 


London     . 

S Vicarage   . 

LETTER  IV. 
LETTER  V. 
LETTER  VI. 

LETTER  VIL       . 
LETTER  VIll.      . 

LETTER  IX. 
LETTER  X, 

LETTER  XI. 

To  any  Lady  Subscriber  who  may  wish  for  Gleanings  from  that  first  Concert  of 
Jenny  Lind  which  the  Critics  of  the  Daily  Papers  have  so  well  harvested 

LETTER  XII 

To  the  Lady-Subscriber  in  the  Country  ..... 

LETTER  XIIL 

To  the  Lady-Subscriber  in  the  Country  .  .  •  .  . 

THE  REQUESTED  LETTER 

To  the  Lady-reader  in  the  Country  ...... 

NATURE  CRITICISED  BY  ART. 

Jenny  Lind's  Propitiatory  Acceptance  of  one  Invitation  from  New  York  Fashionable 
Society— The  History  of  the  Day  of  which  it  was  the  Evening— Her  Martyr- 
dom by  Charity-Seekers  and  other  Wanters  of  Money  and  Gratifiers  of  their 
own  Impertinent  Curiosity— The  Criticism  of  her  Manners  at  the  Party,  as  given 
in  the  "  Courrier  des  Etas  Unis  "—A  Counter-picture  of  her  Conversation  and 
Appearance— Singular  Accidental  "  Tableau  Vivant,"  «fec.,  &c. 


340 


354 


364 


374 
378 


392 


412 


417 


CONTENTS. 


PAOB 

JENNY  LIND      ........        429 

THE  KOSSUTH  DAY. 
The  Magyar  and  the  Aztec,  or  Uie  Two  Extremes  of  Iluman  DeTclopmcnt  433 

Near  View  of  Kossuth  .  .  .  .  .443 

Death  of  Lady  Blessington  .....     454 

Moore  and  Barry  Cornwall         .  .  .  .  .     4!;3 

Jane  Porter,  Authoress  of  "Scottish  Chiefs,"  "Thaddeus 
OF  Warsaw,"  etc.,  etc.     .  .  .  .  .  .471 

Ole  Bull's  Niagara  ......     434 

Dr.  Lardner's  Lecture       .  .  •  .  .  .489 


FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES, 


LETTER    I. 

IMMENSITY     OF     LONDON VOYAGE     TO      LEITH SOCIETY      OF     THE 

STEAM     PACKET ANALOGY      BETWEEN     SCOTCH     AND     AMERICAN 

MANNERS STRICT     OBSERVANCE    OF    THE    SABBATH    ON    BOARD 

EDINBURGH UNEXPECTED    RECOGNITION. 

Almost  giddy  with  the  many  pleasures  and  occupations  of 
London,  I  had  outstayed  the  last  fashionj^ble  lingerer ;  and, 
appearing  again,  after  a  fortnight's  confinement  with  the  epi- 
demic of  the  season,  I  found  myself  almost  without  an  acquain- 
tance, and  was  driven  to  follow  the  world.  A  preponderance 
of  letters  and  friends  determined  my  route  toward  Scotland. 

One  realizes  the  immensity  of  London  when  he  is  compelled 
to  measure  its  length  on  a  single  errand.  1  took  a  cab  at  my 
lodgings  at  nine  in  the  evening,  and  drove  six  miles  through 


12  :.'\:  ;••  j  v jt^'<??s iW^^J^  ^^^  places. 

one  succession  of  crowded  and  blazing  streets  to  the  East 
India  Docks,  and  with  the  single  misfortune  of  being  robbed, 
on  the  way,  of  a  valuable  cloak,  secured  a  berth  in  the  Monarch 
steamer,  bound  presently  for  Edinburgh. 

I  found  the  drawiug-room  cabin  quite  crowded,  cold  supper 
on  the  two  long  tables,  every  body  very  busy  with  knife  and 
fork,  and  whiskey-and-water  and  broad  Scotch  circulating 
merrily.  All  the  world  seemed  acquainted,  and  each  man 
talked  to  his  neighbor,  and  it  was  as  unlike  a  ship's  company 
of  dumb  English  as  could  easily  be  conceived.  I  had  dined 
too  late  to  attack  the  solids,  but  imitating  my  neighbor's  pota- 
tion of  whiskey  and  hot  water,  I  crowded  in  between  two 
good-humored  Scotchmen,  and  took  the  happy  color  of  the 
spirits  of  the  company.  A  small  centre-table  was  occupied  by 
a  party  who  afforded  considerable  amusement.  An  excessively 
fat  old  woman,  with  a  tall  scraggy  daughter  and  a  stubby 
little  old  fellow,  whom  they  called  "  pa ;"  and  a  singular  man, 
a  Major  Somebody,  who  seemed  showing  them  up,  composed 
the  quartette.  Noisier  women  I  never  saw,  nor  more  hideous. 
They  bullied  the  waiter,  were  facetious  with  the  steward,  and 
talked  down  all  the  united  buzz  of  the  cabin.  Opposite  me 
sat  a  pale,  severe-looking  Scotchman,  who  had  addressed  one 
or  two  remarks  to  me;  and,  upon  an  uncommon  burst  of  up- 
roariousness,  he  laughed  with  the  rest,  and  remarked  that  the 
ladies  were  excusable,  for  they  were  doubtless  Americans,  and 
knew  no  better. 

"  It  strikes  me,"  said  I,  "  that  both  in  manners  and  accent 
they  are  particularly  Scotch." 

**  Sir  !"  said  the  pale  gentleman. 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  jg 


"  Sir  1"  said  several  of  my  neighbors  on  the  right  and  left. 

"  Have  you  ever  been  in  Scotland  ?"  asked  the  pale  gentle- 
man, with  rather  a  ferocious  air. 

"  No,  sir  !     Have  you  ever  been  in  America  ?" 

"  No,  sir  !  but  I  have  read  Mrs.  Troilope." 

"  And  I  have  read  Cyril  Thornton  ;  and  the  manners  delin- 
eated in  Mrs.  Troilope,  I  must  say,  are  rather  elegant  in  com- 
parison." 

I  particularized  the  descriptions  I  alluded  to,  which  will 
occur  immediately  to  those  who  have  read  the  novel  I  have 
named ;  and  then  confessing  I  was  an  American,  and  with- 
drawing my  illiberal  remark,  which  I  had  only  made  to  show 
the  gentleman  the  injustice  and  absurdity  of  his  own,  we 
called  for  another  tass  of  whiskey,  and  became  very  good 
friends.  Heaven  knows  I  have  no  prejudice  against  the  Scotch, 
or  any  other  nation — but  it  is  extraordinary  how  universal  the 
feeling  seems  to  be  against  America.  A  half  hour  incog,  in 
any  mixed  company  in  England  I  should  think  would  satisfy 
the  most  rose-colored  doubter  on  the  subject. 

We  got  under  way  at  eleven  o'clock,  and  the  passengers 
turned  in.  The  next  morning  was  Sunday.  It  was  fortu- 
nately of  a  "  Sabbath  stillness ;"  and  the  open  sea  through 
which  we  were  driving,  with  an  easy  south  wind  in  our  favor, 
graciously  permitted  us  to  do  honor  to  as  substantial  a  break- 
fast as  ever  was  set  before  a  traveller,  even  in  America.  (Why 
we  should  be  ridiculed  for  our  breakfasts  I  do  not  know.) 

The  "  Monarch  "  is  a  superb  boat,  and,  with  the  aid  of 
sails  and  a  wind  right  aft,  we  made  twelve  miles  in  the  hour 
easily.     I  was  pleased  to  see  an  observance  of  the  Sabbath 


J  4  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


which  had  not  crossed  my  path  before  in  three  years'  travel. 
Half  the  passengers  at  least  took  their  Bibles  after  breakfast, 
and  devoted  an  hour  or  two  evidently  to  grave  religious  read- 
ing and  reflection.  With  this  exception,  I  have  not  seen  a 
person  with  the  Bible  in  his  hand,  in  travelling  over  half  the 
world. 

The  weather  continued  fine,  and  smooth  water  tempted  us 
up  to  breakfast  again  on  Monday.  Tlie  wash-room  was  full 
of  half  clad  men,  but  the  week-day  manners  of  the  passengers 
were  perceptibly  gayer.  The  captain  honored  us  by  taking 
the  head  of  the  table,  which  he  had  not  done  on  the  day  pre- 
vious, and  his  appearance  was  hailed  by  three  general  cheers. 
When  the  meats  wei'e  removed,  a  gentleman  rose,  and,  after 
a»very  long  and  parliamentary  speech,  proposed  the  health 
of  the  captain.  The  company  stood  up,  ladies  and  all,  and  it 
was  drank  with  a  tremendous  "  hip-hip-hurrah,"  in  bumpers 
of  whiskey.  They  don't  do  that  on  the  Mississippi,  I  reckon. 
If  they  did,  the  travellers  would  be  down  upon  us,  "  I  guess," 
out-Hamiltoniog  Hamilton. 

We  rounded  St.  Abb's  head  into  the  Forth,  at  five,  in  the 
afternoon,  and  soon  dropped  anchor  oft'  Leith.  The  view  of 
Edinburgh,  from  the  water,  is,  I  think,  second  only  to  that 
of  Constantinople.  The  singular  resemblance,  in  one  or  two 
features,  to  the  view  of  Athens,  as  you  approach  from  the 
Pirseus,  seems  to  have  struck  other  eyes  than  mine,  and  an 
imitation  Acropolis  is  commenced  on  the  Calton  Hill,  and  has 
already,  in  its  half  finished  state,  much  the  efiect  of  the  Par- 
thenon. Hymettus  is  rather  loftier  than  the  Pentland-hills, 
ftnd  Pentelicus  farther  oflf  and  grander  than  Arthur's  seat,  but 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND. 


15 


the  old  castle  of  Edinburgh  is  a  noble  and  peculiar  feature  of 
its  own,  and  soars  up  against  the  sky,  with  its  pinnacle- placed 
turrets,  superbly  magnificent.  The  Forth  has  a  high  shore 
on  either  side,  and,  with  the  island  of  Inchkeith  in  its  broad 
bosom,  it  looks  more  like  a  lake  than  an  arm  of  the  sea. 

It  is  odd  what  strange  links  of  acquaintance  will  develop 
between  people  thrown  together  in  the  most  casual  manner, 
and  in  the  most  out-of  the-way  places.  I  have  never  entered  a 
steamboat  in  my  life  without  finding,  if  not  an  acquaintance, 
some  one  who  should  have  been  an  acquaintance  from  mutual 
knowledge  of  friends.  I  thought,  through  the  first  day,  that 
the  Monarch  would  be  an  exception.  On  the  second  morning, 
however,'  a  gentleman  came  up  and  called  me  by  name.  He 
was  an  American;,  and  had  seen  me  in  Boston.  Soon  after, 
another  gentleman  addressed  some  remark  to  me,  and,  in  a 
few  minutes,  we  discovered  that  we  were  members  of  the 
same  club  in  London,  and  bound  to  the  same  hospitable  roof 
in  Scotland.  We  went  on,  talking  together,  and  I  happened 
to  mention  having  lately  been  in  Greece,  when  one  of  a  large 
party  of  ladies,  overhearing  the  remark,  turned,  and  asked  me 

if  I  had  met  Lady in  my  travels.     I  had  met  her  at 

Athens,  and  this  was  her  sister.  I  found  I  had  many  inter- 
esting particulars  of  the  delightful  person  in  question,  which 
were  new  to  them,  and,  sequitur,  a  friendship  struck  up  im- 
mediately between  me  and  a  party  of  six.  You  would  have 
never  dreamed,  to  have  seen  the  adieux  on  the  landing,  that 
we  had  been  unaware  of  each  other's  existence  forty-four 
hours  previous. 


I  (J  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

• 

Leith  is  a  mile  or  more  from  the  town,  and  we  drove  into 
the  new  side  of  Edinburgh — a  splendid  city  of  stone — and, 
with  my  English  friend,  I  was  soon  installed  in  a  comfortable 
parlor  at  Douglass's — an  hotel  to  which  the  Tremont,  in  Bos- 
ton, is  the  only  parallel.  It  is  built  of  the  same  stone  and  is 
smaller,  but  it  has  a  better  situation  than  the  Tremont,  stand- 
ing in  a  magnificent  square,  with  a  column  and  statue  to  Lord 
Melville  in  the  centre,  and  a  perspective  of  a  noble  street 
stretching  through  the  city  from  the  opposite  side. 

We  dined  upon  grouse^  to  begin  Scotland  fairly,  and  nailed 
down  our  sherry  with  a  tass  of  Glenlivet,  and  then  we  had 
still  an  hour  of  daylight  for  a  ramble. 


LETTER  II 


EDINBURGH — A     SCOTCH     BREAKFAST — THE     CASTLE — PALACE     OF 
HOLYROOD QUEEN    MARY RIZZIO CHARLES    THE    TENTH. 

It  is  an  old  place,  Edinboro'.  The  old  town  and  the  new 
are  separated  by  a  broad  and  deep  ravine,  planted  with  trees 
and  shrubbery ;  and  across  this,  on  a  level  with  the  streets  on 
either  side,  stretches  a  bridge  of  a  most  giddy  height,  without 
which«all  communication  would  apparently  be  cut  off.  "  Auld 
Eeekie"  itself  looks  built  on  the  back-bone  of  a  ridgy  crag,  and 
towers  along  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  ravine,  running  up  its 
twelve-story  houses  to  the  sky  in  an  ascending  curve,  till  it 
terminates  in  the  frowning  and  battlemented  castle,  whose 
base  is  literally  on  a  mountain  top  in  the  midst  of  the  city.  At 
the  foot  of  this  ridge,  in  the  lap  of  the  valley,  hes  Holyrood- 
house ;  and  between  this  and  the  castle  runs  a  single  street, 
part  of  which  is  the   old    Canongate.      Princes'   street,  the 

[17] 


18         FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

Broadway  of  the  new  town,  is  built  along  the  opposite  edga 
of  the  ravine  facing  the  long,  many-windowed  walls  of  the 
Canongate,  and  from  every  part  of  Edinboro'  these  singular 
features  are  conspicuously  visible.  A  more  striking  contrast 
than  exists  between  these  two  parts  of  the  same  city  could 
hardly  be  imagined.  On  one  side  a  succession  of  splendid 
squares,  elegant  granite  houses,  broad  and  well-paved  streets, 
columns,  statues,  and  clean  sidewalks,  thinly  promenaded  and 
by  the  well-dressed  exclusively — a  kind  of  wholly  grand  and 
half  deserted  city,  which  has  been  built  too  ambitiously  for  its 
population — and  on  the  other,  an  antique  wilderness  of  streets 
and  "  wynds,"  so  narrow  and  lofty  as  to  shut  out  much  of  the 
light  of  heaven ;  a  thronging,  busy,  and  particularly  dirty 
population,  sidewalks  almost  impassable  from  children  and 
other  respected  nuisances  ;  and  altogether,  between  the  irreg- 
ular and  massive  architecture,  and  the  unintelligible  jargon 
agonizing  the  air  about  you,  a  most  outlandish  and  strange 
city.  Paris  is  not  more  unlike  Constantinople  than  one  side 
of  Edinboro'  is  unlike  the  other.  Nature  has  probably  placed 
"  a  great  gulf"  between  them. 

"We  toiled  up  the  castle  to  see  the  sunset.  Oh,  but  it  was 
beautiful !  I  have  no  idea  of  describing  it;  but  Edinboro',  to 
me,  will  be  a  picture  seen  through  an  atmosphere  of  powdered 
gold,  mellow  as  an  eve  on  the  Campagna.  We  looked  down 
on  the  surging  sea  of  architecture  below  us,  and  whether  it 
was  the  wavy  cloudiness  of  a  myriad  of  reeking  chimneys,  or 
whether  it  was  a  fancy  Glenlivet-born  in  my  eye,  the  city 
seemed  to  me  like  a  troop  of  war-horses,  rearing  into  the  air 
with  their  gallant  riders.  The  singular  boldness  of  the  hills  on 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND. 


19 


which  it  is  built,  and  of  the  crags  and  mountains  which  look 
down  upon  it,  and  the  impressive  lift  of  its  towering  architec- 
ture into  the  sky,  gave  it  altogether  a  look  of  pride  and  war- 
likeness  that  answers  peculiarly  well  to  the  chivalric  history 
of  Scotland.  And  so  much  for  the  first  look  at  "  Auld 
Eeekie." 

My  friend  had  determined  to  have  what  he  called  a  "  flare- 
up  "  of  a  Scotch  breakfast,  and  we  were  set  down,  the  morn- 
ing after  our  arrival,  at  nine,  to  cold  grouse,  salmon,  cold 
beef,  marmalade,  jellies,  honey,  five  kinds  of  bread,  oatmeal 
cakes,  coffee,  tea,  and  toast ;  and  I  am  by  no  means  sure  that 
that  is  all.  It  is  a  fine  country  in  which  one  gets  so  much  by 
the  simple  order  .of  "  breakfast  at  nine." 

We  parted  after  having  achieved  it,   my  companion  going  ' 
before  me  to  Dumbartonshire ;  and,  with  a  "  wee  callant"  for 
a  guide,  I  took  my  way  to  Holyrood. 

At  the  very  foot  of  Edinboro'  stands  this  most  interesting 
of  royal  palaces — a  fine  old  pile,  though  at  the  first  view  rather 
disappointing.  It  might  have  been  in  the  sky,  which  was  dun 
and  cold,  or  it  might  have  been  in  the  melancholy  story  most 
prominent  in  its  history,  but  it  oppressed  me  with  its  gloom 
A  rosy  cicerone  in  petticoats  stepped  out  from  the  porter's 
lodge,  and  rather  brightened  my  mood  with  her  smile  and 
courtesy,  and  I  followed  on  to  the  chapel  royal,  built.  Hea- 
ven knows  when,  but  in  a  beautiful  state  of  gothic  ruin. 
The  girl  went  on  with  her  knitting  and  her  well-drilled  re- 
citation of  the  sights  upon  which  those  old  fretted  and  stone 
traceries  had  let  in  the  light;  and  I  walked  about  feeding 
my  eyes  upon  its  hoar  and  touching  beauty,  listening  little  till 


20  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


she  came  to  the  high  altar,  and  in  the  same  broad  Scotch  mo- 
notony, and  with  her  eyes  still  upon  her  work,  hurried  over 
something  about  Mary  Queen  of  Scots.  She  was  married  to 
Darnley  on  the  spot  where  I  stood  !  The  mechanical  guide 
was  accustomed  evidently  to  an  interruption  here,  and  stood 
still  a  minute  or  two  to  give  my  surprise  the  usual  grace. 
Poor,  poor  Mary  !  I  had  the  common  feeling,  and  made  pro- 
bably the  same  ejaculation  that  thousands  have  made  on  the 
spot,  that  I  had  never  before  realized  the  melancholy  ro- 
mance of  her  hfe  half  so  nearly.  It  had  been  the  sadness 
of  an  hour  before — a  feeling  laid  aside  with  the  book  that 
recorded  it — now  it  was,  as  it  were,  a  pity  and  a  grief  for 
the  living,  and  I  felt  struck  with  it  as  if  it  had  happened 
yesterday.  If  Eizzio's  harp  had  sounded  from  her  chamber, 
it  could  not  have  seemed  more  tangibly  a  scene  of  living  story. 

"  And  through  this  door  they  dragged  the  murdered  favor- 
ite ;  and  here  under  this  stone,  he  was  buried  I" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Poor  Kizzio !" 

"  I'm  thinkin'  that's  a',  sir  1" 

It  was  a  broad  hint,  but  I  took  another  turn  down  the  nave 
of  the  old  ruin,  and  another  look  at  the  scene  of  the  murder, 
and  the  grave  of  the  victim. 

"  And  this  door  communicated  with  Mary's  apartments  I" 

"  Yes — ye  hae  it  a'  the  noo  !" 

I  paid  my  shilling,  and  exit. 

On  inquiry  for  the  private  apartments,  I  was  directed  to 
another  Girzy,  who  took  me  up  to  a  suite  of  rooms  appropri- 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  21 

ated  to  the  use  of  the  Earl  of  Breadalbane,  and  furnished  very 
much  like  lodgings  for  a  guinea  a  week  in  London. 

"  And  which  was  Queen  Mary's  chamber  ?" 

"  Ech  !  sir  !     It's  t'ither  side.     I  dinna  show  that." 

"  And  what  am  I  brought  here  for?" 

"  Ye  cam'  yoursell !" 

"With  this  wholesome  truth,  I  paid  my  shilling  again,  and 
was  handed  over  to  another  woman,  who  took  me  into  a  large 
hall  containing  portraits  of  Eobert  Bruce,  Baliol,  Macbeth, 
Queen  Mary,  and  some  forty  other  men  and  women  famous 
in  Scotch  story ;  and  nothing  is  clearer  than  that  one  patient 
person  sat  to  the  painter  for  the  whole.  After  "  doing"  these, 
I  was  led  with  extreme  deliberativeness  through  a  suite  of  un- 
furnished rooms,  twelve,  I  think,  the  only  interest  of  which 
was  their  having  been  tenanted  of  late  by  the  royal  exile  of 
France.  As  if  anybody  would  give  a  shilling  to  see  where 
Charles  the  Tenth  slept  and  breakfasted  ! 

I  thanked  Heaven  that  I  stumbled  next  upon  the  right  per- 
son, and  was  introduced  into  an  ill-lighted  room,  with  one  deep 
window  looking  upon  the  court,  and  a  fireplace  like  that  of  a 
country  inn — the  state  chamber  of  the  unfortunate  Mary.  Here 
was  a  chair  she  embroidered — there  was  a  seat  of  tarnished 
velvet,  where  she  sat  in  state  with  Darnley — the  very  grate  in 
the  chimney  that  she  had  sat  before — the  mirror  in  which  her 
fairest  face  had  been  imaged — the  table  at  which  she  had 
worked — the  walls  on  which  her  eyes  hud  rested  in  her  gay 
and  her  melancholy  hours — all,  save  the  touch  and  mould  of 
time,  as  she  lived  in  it  and  left  it.  It  was  a  place  for  a  thou- 
sand thoughts. 


22  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


The  woman  led  on.  We  entered  another  room — her  cham- 
ber. A  small,  low  bed,  with  tattered  hangings  of  red  and 
figured  silk,  tall,  ill-shapen  posts,  and  altogether  a  paltry  look, 
stood  in  a  room  of  irregular  shape ;  and  here,  in  all  her  peer- 
less beauty,  she  had  slept.  A  small  cabinet,  a  closet  merely, 
opened  on  the  right,  and  in  this  she  was  supping  with  Rizzio 
when  he  was  plucked  from  her  and  murdered.  We  went  back 
to  the  audience  chamber  to  see  the  stain  of  his  blood  on  the 
floor.  She  partitioned  it  off  after  his  death,  not  bearing  to 
look  upon  it.     Again — "  poor  Mary  !'• 

On  the  opposite  side  was  a  similar  closet,  which  served  as 
her  dressing  room,  and  the  small  mirror,  scarce  larger  than 
your  hand,  which  she  used  at  her  toilet.  Oh  for  a  magic 
wand,  to  wave  back,  upon  that  senseless  surface,  the  visions 
of  beauty  it  has  reflected ! 


LETTEE   III 


DALHOUSIE      CASTLE THE     EARL     AND      COUNTESS ANTIQUITY     OF 

THEIR    FAMILY. 

Edinboro'  has  extended  to  ''  St.  Leonard's,"  and  the  home 
of  Jeanie  Deans  is  now  the  commencement  of  the  railway  ! 
How  sadly  is  romance  ridden  over  by  the  march  of  intellect ! 

With  twenty-four  persons  and  some  climbers  behind,  I  was 
drawn  ten  miles  in  the  hour  by  a  single  horse  upon  the  Dal- 
keith railroad,  and  landed  within  a  mile  of  Dalhousie  Castle. 
Two  "  wee  callants  "  here  undertook  my  portmanteau,  and  in 
ten  minutes  more  I  was  at  the  ruatic  lodge  in  the  park,  the 
gate  of  which  swung  hospitably  open  with  the  welcome  an- 
nouncement that  I  was  expected.  An  avenue  of  near  three 
quarters  of  a  mile  of  firs,  cedars,  laburnums,  and  larches, 
wound  through  the  park  to  the  castle ;  and  dipping  over  the 
edge  of  a  deep  and  wild  dell,  I  found  the  venerable  old  pile 

[23] 


24  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACEa 


below  me,  its  round  towers  and  battlemented  turrets  frowning 
among  the  trees,  and  forming  with  the  river,  which  swept  round 
its  base,  one  of  the  finest  specimens  imaginable  of  the  feudal 
picturesque.*  The  nicely  gravelled  terraces,  as  I  approached, 
the  plate-glass  windows  and  rich  curtains,  diminished  some- 
what of  the  romance ;  but  1  am  not  free  to  say  that  the  prom- 
ise they  gave  of  the  luxury  within  did  not  offer  a  succedaneum. 

I  was  met  at  the  threshold  by  the  castle's  noble  and  distin- 
guished master,  and  as  the  light  modern  gothic  door  swung 
open  on  its  noiseless  hinges,  I  looked  up  at  the  rude  armorial 
scutcheon  above,  and  at  the  slits  for  the  portcullis  chains  and 
the  rough  hollows  in  the  walls  which  had  served  for  its  rest, 
and  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  kind  and  polished  earl,  in  his  vel- 
vet cap,  and  the  modern  door  on  its  patent  hinges,  were  pleas- 
ant substitutes  even  for  a  raised  drawbridge  and  a  helmeted 
knight.  I  beg  pardon  of  the  romantic,  if  this  be  treason 
against  Delia  Crusca. 

The  gong  had  sounded  its  first  summons  to  dinner,  and  I 
went  immediately  to  my  room  to  achieve  my  toilet.  I  found 
myself  in  the  south  wing,  with  a  glorious  view  up  the  valley 
of  the  Esk,  and  comforts  about  me  such  as  are  only  found  in 
a  private  chamber  in  England.  The  nicely-fitted  carpet,  the 
heavy  curtains,  the  well-appointed  dressing-table,  the  patent 
grate  and  its  blazing  fire  (for  where  is  a  fire  not  welcome  in 
Scotland  ?)  the  tapestry,  the  books,  the  boundless  bed,  the  bell 
that  will  ring,  and  the  servants  that  anticipate  the  pull oh, 

*  "  The  castle  of  Dalhousie  upon  the  South-Esk,  is  a  strong  and  large 
castle,  with  a  large  wall  of  aslure  work  going  round  about  the  same, 
with  a  tower  upon  ilk  comer  thereof.'' — Grose's  Antiquities. 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  25 


3'ou  should  have  pined  for  comfort  in  France  and  Italy  to 
know  what  this  catalogue  is  worth. 

After  dinner,  Lady  Dalhousie,  who  is  much  of  an  invalid, 
mounted  a  small  poney  to  show  me  the  grounds.  We  took  a 
w^inding  path  away  from  the  door,  and  descended  at  once  into 
the  romantic  dell  over  which  the  castle  towers.  It  is  naturally 
a  most  wild  and  precipitous  glen,  through  which  the  rapid  Esk 
pursues  its  way  almost  in  darkness ;  but,  leaving  only  the  steep 
and  rocky  shelves  leaning  over  the  river  with  their  crown  of 
pines,  the  successive  lords  of  Dalhousie  have  cultivated  the 
banks  and  hills  around  for  a  park  and  a  paradise.  The  smooth 
gravel  walks  cross  and  interweave,  the  smoother  lawns  sink 
and  swell  with  their  green  bosoms,  the  stream  dashes  on  mur- 
muring below,  and  the  lofty  trees  shadow  and  overhang  all. 
At  one  extremity  of  the  grounds  are  a  flower  and  a  fruit  gar- 
den, and  beyond  it  the  castle  farm  ;  at  the  other,  a  little  village 
of  the  family  dependants,  with  their  rose-imbowered  cottages; 
and,  as  far  as  you  would  ramble  in  a  day,  extend  the  woods 
and  glades,  and  hares  leap  across  your  path,  and  pheasants 
and  partridges  whirr  up  as  you  approach,  and  you  may  fatigue 
yourself  in  a  scene  that  is  formed  in  every  feature  from  the 
gentle-born  and  the  refined.  The  labor  and  the  taste  of  suc- 
cessive generations  can  alone  create  such  an  Eden.  Primo- 
geniture 1   I  half  forgive  thee. 

The  various  views  of  the  castle  from  the  bottom  of  the  dell 
are  perfectly  beautiful.  "With  all  its  internal  refinement,  it  is 
still  the  warlike  fortress  at  a  little  distance,  and  bartizan  and 
battlement  bring  boldly  back  the  days  when  Bruce  was  at 
Hawthornden  (six  miles  distant,)  and  Lord  Dalhousie's  ances- 
2 


FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


tor,  the  knightly  Sir  Alexander  Ramsay,  defended  the  ford  of 
the  Esk,  and  made  himself  a  man  in  Scottish  story  in  the  days 
of  "Wallace  and  the  Douglasses.  Dalhousie  was  besieged  by 
Edward  the  first  and  by  John  of  Gaunt,  among  others,  and 
being  the  nearest  of  a  chain  of  castles  from  the  Esk  to  the 
Pentland  Hills,  it  was  the  scene  of  some  pretty  fighting  in 
most  of  the  wars  of  Scotland. 

Lord  Dalhousie  showed  me  a  singular  old  bridle-bit,  the  his- 
tory of  which  is  thus  told  in  Scott's  Tales  of  a  Grandfather : 

"Sir  Alexander  Ramsay  having  taken  by  storm  the  strong  castle  of 
Roxburgh,  the  king  bestowed  on  him  the  office  of  sheriff  of  the  coim- 
ty,  which  was  before  engaged  by  the  knight  of  Liddesdale.  As  this 
was  placing  another  person  in  his  room,  the  knight  of  Liddesdale  alto- 
gether forgot  his  old  friendship  for  Ramsay,  and  resolved  to  put  him  to 
death.  He  came  suddenly  upon  him  with  a  strong  party  of  men  while 
he  was  administering  justice  at  Harwick.  Ramsay,  having  no  suspi- 
cion of  iujury  from  the  hands  of  his  old  comrade,  and  having  few  men 
with  him,  was  easily  overpowered ;  and,  being  wounded,  was  hurried 
away  to  the  lonely  castle  of  the  Hermitage,  which  stands  in  the  middle 
of  the  morasses  of  Liddesdale.  Here  he  was  thrown  into  a  dungeon 
(with  his  horse)  where  he  had  no  other  sustenance  than  some  grain 
which  fell  down  from  a  granary  above  ;  and,  after  lingering  awhile  iu 
that  dreadful  condition,  the  brave  Sir  Alexander  Ramsay  died.  This 
was  in  1412.  Nearly  four  hundred  and  fifty  years  afterward,  that  is, 
about  forty  years  ago,  a  mason,  digging  among  the  ruins  of  Hermitage 
Castle,  broke  into  a  dungeon,  where  lay  a  quantity  of  chaff,  some  hu- 
man bones  and  a  bridle-bit,  which  were  supposed  to  mark  the  vault  as 
the  place  of  Ramsay's  death.  The  bridle-bit  was  given  to  grandpapa, 
who  presented  it  to  the  present  gallant  earl  of  Dalhousie,  a  brave  sol- 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  27 


dier,  like  his  ancestor,  Sir  Alexander  Ramsay,  from  whom  he  is  lineally 
descended." 

There  is  another  singular  story  connected  with  the  family 
which  escaped  Sir  Walter,  and  which  has  never  appeared  in 
print.  Lady  Dalhousie  is  of  the  ancient  family  of  Coulston, 
one  of  the  ancestors  of  which,  Brown  of  Coulston,  married 
the  daughter  of  the  famous  Warlock  of  Giflford,  described  in 
Marmion.  As  they  were  proceeding  to  the  church,  the  wizard 
lord  stopped  the  bridal  procession  beneath  a  pear-tree,  and 
plucking  one  of  the  pears,  he  gave  it  to  his  daughter,  telling 
her  that  he  had  no  dowry  to  give  her,  but  that  as  long  as  she 
kept  that  gift,  good  fortune  would  never  desert  her  or  her  de- 
scendants. This  was  in  1270,  and  the  pear  is  still  preserved 
in  a  silver  box.  About  two  centuries  ago,  a  maiden  lady  of 
the  family  chose  to  try  her  teeth  upon  it,  and  very  soon  after 
two  of  the  best  farms  of  the  estlte  were  lost  in  some  litigation 
— the  only  misfortune  that  has  befallen  the  inheritance  of  the 
Coulstons  in  six  centuries — thanks  (perhaps)  to  the  Warlock 
pear  / 


LETTER  IV 


SPORTING  AND  ITS  EQUIPMENTS ROSLIN  CASTLE   AND    CHAPEL. 

The  nominal  attraction  of  Scotland,  particularly  at  this  sea- 
son, is  the  shooting.  Immediately  on  your  arrival,  you  are 
asked  whether  you  prefer  a  flint  or  a  percussion  lock,  and 
(supposing  that  you  do  not  travel  with  a  gun,  which  all  Eng- 
lishmen do,)  a  double-barrelled  Manton  is  appropriated  to 
your  use,  the  game-keeper  fills  your  powder  and  shot-pouches, 
and  waits  with  the  dogs  in  a  leash  till  you  have  done  your 
breakfast ;  and  the  ladies  leave  the  table,  wishing  you  a  good 
day's  sport,  all  as  matters  of  course. 

I  would  rather  have  gone  to  the  library.  An  aversion  to 
walking,  except  upon  smooth  flag  stones,  a  poetical  tenderness 
on  the  subject  of  "  putting  birds  out  of  misery,"  as  the  last 
office  is  elegantly  called,  and  hands  much  more  at  home  with 

r281 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND. 


29 


a  goose-quill  than  a  gun,  were  some  of  my  private  objections 
to  the  "  order  of  the  day."  Between  persuasion  and  a  most 
truant  sunshine,  I  was  overruled,  however  ;  and,  with  a  silent 
prayer  that  I  might  not  destroy  the  hopes  of  my  noble  host, 
by  shooting  his  only  son,  who  was  to  be  my  companion  and 
instructor,  I  shouldered  the  proffered  Manton  and  joined  the 
game-keeper  in  the  park. 

Lord  Eamsay  and  his  man  looked  at  me  with  some  aston- 
ishment as  I  approached,  and  I  was  equally  surprised  at  the 
young  nobleman's  metamorphosis.  Prom  the  elegant  Oxonian 
I  had  seen  at  breakfast,  he  was  transformed  to  a  figure  some- 
thing rougher  than  his  highland  dependant,  in  a  woollen  shoot- 
ing-jacket, that  raight  have  been  cut  in  Kentucky,  pockets  of 
any  number  and  capacity,  trousers  of  the  coarsest  plaid,  hob- 
nailed shoes,  and  leather  gaiters,  and  a  manner  of  handling  his 
gun  that  would  have  been  respected  on  the  Mississippi.  My 
own  appearance  in  high-heeled  French  boots  and  other  corre' 
sponding  geer  for  a  tramp  over  stubble  and  marsh,  amused 
them  equally ;  but  my  wardrobe  was  exclusively  metropolitan, 
and  there  was  no  alternative. 

The  dogs  were  loosed  from  their  leash  and  bounded  away, 
and  crossing  the  Esk  under  the  castle  walls,  we  found  our 
way  out  of  the  park,  and  took  to  the  open  fields.  A  large 
patch  of  stubble  was  our  first  ground,  and  with  a  "  hie  away  1" 
from  the  gamekeeper,  the  beautiful  setters  darted  on  before, 
their  tails  busy  with  delight  and  their  noses  to  the  ground, 
first  dividing,  each  for  a  wall  side,  and  beating  along  till  they 
met,  and  then  scouring  toward  the  centre,  as  regularly  as  if 
every  step  were  guided  by  human  reason.     Suddenly  they 


^  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

both  dropped  low  into  the  stubble,  and  with  heads  eagerly  bent 
forward  and  the  intensest  gaze  upon  a  spot,  a  yard  or  more  in 
advance,  stood  as  motionless  as  stone.  "  A  covey,  my  lord !" 
said  the  game-keeper,  and,  with  our  guns  cocked,  we  advanced 
to  the  dogs,  who  had  crouched,  and  lay  as  still,  while  we  passed 
them,  as  if  their  lives  depended  upon  our  shot.  Another 
step,  and  whirr !  whirr !  a  dozen  partridges  started  up  from 
the  furrow,  and  while  Lord  Eamsay  cried  "  Now !"  and  re- 
served his  fire  to  give  me  the  opportunity,  I  stood  stock  still  in 
my  surprise,  and  the  whole  covey  disappeared  over  the  wall. 
My  friend  laughed,  the  gamekeeper  smiled,  and  the  dogs  hied 
on  once  more. 

I  mended  my  shooting  in  the  course  of  the  morning,  but  it 
was  both  exciting  and  hard  work.  A  heavy  shower  soaked 
us  through,  without  extracting  the  slightest  notice  from  my 
companion ;  and  on  we  trudged  through  pe'as,  beans,  turnips, 
and  corn,  mudded  to  the  knees  and  smoking  with  moisture, 
excessively  to  the  astonishment,  I  doubt  not,  of  the  produc- 
tions of  Monsieur  Clerx,  of  the  Rue  Vivienne,  which  were  re- 
duced to  the  consistency  of  brown  paper,  and  those  of  my 
London  tailor,  which  were  equally  entitled  to  some  surprise 
at  the  use  they  were  put  to.  It  was  quite  beautiful,  however, 
to  see  the  ardor  and  training  of  the  dogs ;  their  caution,  their 
obedience,  and  their  perfect  understanding  of  every  motion  of 
their  master.  I  found  myself  interested  quite  beyond  fatigue, 
and  it  was  only  when  we  jumped  the  park  paling  and  took  it 
once  more  leisurely  down  the  gravel  walks,  that  I  realized  at 
what  an  expense  of  mud,  water,  and  weariness,  my  day's  sport 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  31 


had  been  purchased.     Mem.  Never  to  come  to  Scotland  again 
without  hob-nailed  shoes  and  a  shooting  jacket. 


Rode  over  to  Roslin  castle.  The  country  between  Dalhou- 
sie  castle  and  Roslin,  including  the  village  of  Lassw^ade,  is  of 
uncommon  loveliness.  Lasswade  itself  clings  to  the  two  sides 
of  a  small  valley,  with  its  village  church  buried  in  trees,  and 
the  country  seat  of  I.ord  Melviil  looking  down  upon  it,  from 
its  green  woods ;  and  away  over  the  shoulder  of  the  hill^ 
swell  the  forests  and  rocks  which  irabosom  Hawthornden  (the 
residence  of  Drummond,  the  poet,  in  the  days  of  Ben  Jonson,) 
and  the  Pentland  Hills,  with  their  bold  outline,  form  a  back- 
ground that  completes  the  picture.  ' 

"VVe  left  our  horses  at  the  neighboring  inn,  and  walked  first 
to  Roslin  chapel.  This  little  gem  of  florid  architecture  is 
scarcely  a  ruin,  so  perfect  are  its  arches  and  pillars,  its  fretted 
cornices  and  its  painted  windows.  A  whimsical  booby  under- 
took the  cicerone,  with  a  long  cane-pole  to  point  out  the  beau- 
ties. "VVe  entered  the  low  side  door,  whose  stone  threshold 
the  feet  of  Cromw^ell's  church  stabled  troopers  assisted  to  wear, 
and  waflked  at  once  to  a  singular  column  of  twisted  marble, 
most  curiously  carved,  standing  under  the  choir.  Our  friend 
with  the  cane-pole,  who  had  condescended  to  familiar  Scotch 
on  the  way,  took  his  distance  from  the  base,  and  drawing  up 
his  feet  like  a  soldier  on  drill,  assumed  a  most  extraordinary 


FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


elevation  of  voice,  and  recited  its  history  in  a  declamation  of 
which  I  could  only  comprehend  the  words  "  A?«;braham  and 
Isaac."  I  saw  by  the  direction  of  the  pole  that  there  was  a 
bas  relief  of  the  Father  of  the  Faithful,  done  on  the  capital — 
but  for  the  rest  I  was  indebted  to  Lord  Eamsay,  who  did  it 
into  English  as  follows  :  "  The  master-mason  of  this  chapel, 
meeting  with  some  difficulties  in  the  execution  of  his  design, 
found  it  necessary  to  go  to  Eome  for  information,  during 
which  tim.e  his  apprentice  carried  on  the  work,  and  even  exe- 
cuted some  parts  concerning  which  his  master  had  been  most, 
doubtful ;  particularly  this  fine  fluted  column,  ornamented 
with  wreaths  of  foliage  and  flowers  twisting  spirally  round  it. 
The  master  on  his  return,  stung  with  envy  at  this  proof  of  the 
superior  abilities  of  his  apprentice,  slew  him  by  a  blow  of  his 
hammer." 

The  whole  interior  of  the  chapel  is  excessively  rich.  The 
roof,  capitals,  key-stones,  and  architraves,  are  covered  with 
sculptures.  On  the  architrave  joining  the  apprentice's  piflar 
to  a  smaller  one,  is  graved  the  sententious  inscription,  "  Forte 
est  vinum^  fortior  est  rcx^  fortiores  sunt  mulieres  ;  super  omnia 
vincit  Veritas^  It  has  been  built  about  four  hundred  years, 
and  is,  I  am  told,  the  most  perfect  thing  of  its  kind  in 
Scotland. 

The  ruins  of  Roslin  castle  are  a  few  minutes*  wallubeyond. 
They  stand  on  a  kind  of  island  rock,  in  the  midst  of  one  of  the 
wildest  glens  of  Scotland,  separated  from  the  hill  nearest  to 
the  base  by  a  drawbridge,  awung  over  a  tremendous  chasm. 
I  have  seen  nothing  so  absolutely  picturesque  in  my  travels. 
The  North  Esk  runs  its  dark  course,  unseen,  in  the  ravine  bo- 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  33 


low ;  the  rocks  on  every  side  frown  down  upon  it  in  black 
shadows,  the  woods  are  tangled  and  apparently  pathless,  and 
were  it  not  for  a  most  undeniable  two-story  farm  house,  built 
directly  in  the  court  of  the  old  castle,  you  might  convince 
yourself  that  foot  had  never  approached  it  since  the  days  of 
Wallace. 

The  fortress  was  built  by  "William  St.  Clair,  of  whom  Grose 
writes :  "  He  kept  a  great  court,  and  was  royally  served  at 
his  own  table  in  vessels  of  gold  and  silver;  Lord  Dirleton  be- 
ing his  master-household ;  Lord  Borthwick  his  cnp-bearer, 
and  Lord  Fleming  his  carver ;  in  whose  absence  they  had  de- 
puties to  attend,  viz  :  Stewart,  Laird  of  Drumlanrig ;  Tweddie, 
Laird  of  Drumerline,  and  Sandilands,  Laird  of  Calder.  He 
had  his  halls  and  other  apartments*  richly  adorned  with  em- 
broidered hangings.  He  flourished  in  the  reigns  of  James  the 
First  and  Second.  His  princess,  Elizabeth  Douglas,  was 
served  by  seventy-five  gentlewomen,  whereof  fifty-three  were 
daughters  of  noblemen,  all  clothed  in  velvets  and  silks,  with 
their  chains  of  gold  and  other  ornaments,  and  was  attended 
by  two  hundred  riding  gentlemen  in  all  her  journeys ;  and,  if 
it  happened  to  be  dark  when  she  went  to  Edinburgh,  where 
her  lodgings  were  at  the  foot  of  the  Black  Fryar's  Wynd, 
eighty  torches  w^ere  carried  before  her." 

"With  a  scrambling  walk  up  the  glen,  which  is,  as  says  truly 
Mr.  Grose,  "inconceivably  romantic,"  we  returned  to  our 
horses,  and  rode  back  to  our  dinner  at  Dalhousie,  delighted 
with  Eoslin  castle,  and  uncommonly  hungry. 


LETTER  V. 


"  CHRISTOPHER     NORTh" MR.     BLACKWOOD THE    ETTRICK    SHEP- 
HERD   LOCKHART N0CTE8    AMBROSIAN.E WORDSWORTH— 

SOUTHEY CAPTAIN    HAMILTON    AND    HIS     BOOK     ON     AMERICA 

PROFESSOR  Wilson's  family,  etc. 

One  of  my  raost  valued  letters  to  Scotland  was  an  introduc- 
tion to  Professor  Wilson — the  "  Christopher  North"  of  Black- 
wood, and  the  well  known  poet.  The  acknowledgment  of  the 
reception  of  my  note  came  with  an  invitation  to  breakfast  the 
following  morning,  at  the  early  hour  of  nine. 

The  professor's  family  were  at  a  summer  residence  in  the 

country,  and  he  was  alone  in  his  house  in  Gloucester-place, 

having  come  to  town  on  the  melancholy  errand  of  a  visit  to 

poor  Blackwood — (since  dead.)      I  was  punctual  to  my  hour, 

and  found  .the  poet  standing  before  the  fire  with  liis  coat 

skirts  expanded — a  large,  muscular  man,  something  slovenly 

in  his  dress,  but  with  a  manner  and  face  of  high  good  humor, 

£34J 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  gg 

and  remarkably  frank  and  prepoesessing  address.  While  he 
was  finding  me  a  chair,  and  saying  civil  things  of  the  noble 
friend  who  had  been  the  medium  of  our  acquaintance,  I  was 
trying  to  reconcile  my  idea  of  him,  gathered  from  portraits 
and  descriptions,  with  the  person  before  me.  I  had  imagined 
a  thinner  and  more  scholar-like  looking  man,  with  a  much 
paler  face,  and  a  much  more  polished  exterior.  His  head  is 
exceedingly  ample,  his  eye  blue  and  restless,  his  mouth  full  of 
character,  and  his  hair,  of  a  very  light  sandy  color,  is  brushed 
up  to  cover  an  incipient  baldness,  but  takes  very  much  its  own 
way,  and  has  the  wildness  of  a  highlander's.  He  has  the  stamp 
upon  him  of  a  remarkable  man  to  a  degree  seldom  seen,  and 
is,  on  the  whole,  fine-looking  and  certainly  a  gentleman  in  his 
appearance;  but  (I  know  not  whether  the  impression  is  com- 
mon) I  expected  in  Christopher  North,  a  finished  and  rather 
over-refined  man  of  the  world  of  the  old  school,  and  I  was  so 
far  disappointed. 

The  tea  was  made,  and  the  breakfast  smoked  upon  the  ta- 
ble, but  the  professor  showed  no  signs  of  being  aware  of  the 
fact,  and  talked  away  famously,  getting  up  and  sitting  down, 
walking  to  the  window  and  standing  before  the  fire,  and  appa- 
rently carried  quite  away  with  his  own  too  rapid  process  of 
thought.  He  talked  of  the  American  poets,  praised  Percival 
and  Pierpont  more  particularly ;  expressed  great  pleasure  at 
the  criticisms  of  his  own  works  that  had  appeared  in  the 
American  papers  and  magazines — and  still  the  toast  was  get- 
ting cold,  and  with  every  move  he  seemed  less  and  less  aware 
of  the  presence  of  breakfast.  There  were  plates  and  cups  but 
for  two,  so  that  he  was  not  waiting  for  another  guest, — and 


FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


after  half  an  hour  had  thus  elapsed,  I  began  to  fear  he  thought 
he  had  already  breakfasted.  If  I  had  wished  to  have  remind- 
ed him  of  it,  however,  I  should  have  had  no  opportunity,  for 
the  stream  of  his  eloquence  ran  on  without  a  break  ;  and  elo- 
quence it  certainly  w^as.  His  accent  is  very  broadly  Scotch, 
but  his  words  are  singularly  well  chosen,  and  his  illustrations 
more  novel  and  poetical  than  those  of  any  man  I  ever  con- 
versed with.  He  spoke  of  Blackw^ood,  returning  to  the  sub- 
ject repeatedly,  and  always  with  a  softened  tone  of  voice  and 
a  more  impressive  manner,  as  if  his  feelings  were  entirely  en 
grossed  by  the  circumstances  of  his  illness.  "  Poor  Black 
wood,"  he  said,  setting  his  hands  together  and  fixing  his  eyes 
on  the  wall,  as  if  he  were  soliloquising  with  the  picture  of  the 
sick  man  vividly  before  him,  ^'  there  never  was  a  more  honest 
creature,  or  a  better  friend.  I  have  know^n  him  intimately  for 
years,  and  owe  him  much  ;  and  I  could  lose  no  friend  that 
would  affect  me  more  nearly.  There  is  something  quite  awful 
in  the  striking  down  thus  of  a  familiar  companion  by  your  side 
— the  passing  away — the  death — the  end  forever  of  a  man  you 
have  been  accustomed  to  meet  as  surely  as  the  morning  or 
evening,  and  have  grown  to  consider  a  part  of  your  existence 
almost.  To  have  the  share  he  took  in  your  thoughts  thrown 
back  upon  you — and  his  aid  and  counsel  and  company  with 
you  no  more.  His  own  mind  is  in  a  very  singular  state.  He 
knows  he  is  to  die,  and  he  has  made  every  preparation  in  the 
most  composed  and  sensible  manner,  and  if  the  subject  is  allu- 
ded to  directly,  does  not  even  express  a  hope  of  recovery  ; 
yet,  the  moment  the  theme  is  changed,  ho  talks  as  if  death 
wjr^  as  far  from  him  as  ever,  and  looks  forward,  and  mingles 


A  TRIP  TO   SCOTLAND.  37 


himself  up  in  his  remarks  on  the  future,  as  if  he  were  here  to 
see  this  and  the  other  thing  completed,  and  share  with  you 
the  advantages  for  years  to  come.  What  a  strange  thing  it 
is — this  balancing  between  death  and  life — standing  on  the 
edge  of  the  grave,  and  turning,  first  to  look  into  its  approach- 
ing darkness,  and  then  back  on  the  familiar  and  pleasant 
world,  yet  with  a  certain  downward  progress,  and  no  hope  ot 
life,  beyond  the  day  over  your  head  !" 

I  asked  if  Blackwood  was  a  man  of  refined  literary  taste. 

"  Yes,"  he  said.  "  1  would  trust  his  opinion  of  a  book 
sooner  than  that  of  any  man  I  know^  He  might  not  publish 
eveijjything  he  approved,  for  it  was  his  business  to  print  only 
things  that  would  sell ;  and,  therefore,  there  are  perhaps  ma- 
ny authors  who  would  complain  of  him  ;  but,  if  his  opinion 
had  been  against  my  own,  and  it  had  been  my  own  book,  I 
should  believe  he  was  right  and  give  up  my  own  judgment. 
He  was  a  patron  of  literature,  and  it  owes  him  much.  He  is 
a  loss  to  the  world." 

I  spoke  of  the  ''  Noctes.'" 

He  smiled,  as  you  would  suppose  Christopher  North  would 
do,  with  the  twinkle  proper  of  genuine  hilarity  in  his  eye, 
and  said,  "  Yes,  they  have  been  very  popular.  Many  people 
in  Scotland  believe  them  to  be  transcripts  of  real  scenes,  and 
w^onder  how  a  professor  of  moral  philosophy  can  descend  to 
such  carousings,  and  poor  Hogg  comes  in  for  his  share  of 
abuse,  for  they  never  doubt  he  was  there  and  said  everything 
that  is  put  down  for  him." 

"  How  does  the  Shepherd  take  it  ?" 

"  Very  good  humoredly,  with  the  exception  of  one  or  twp 


^  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


occasions,  when  cockney  scribblers  have  visited  him  in  their 
tours,  and  tried  to  flatter  him  by  convincing  him  he  was  treat- 
ed disrespectfully.  But  five  minutes' '  conversation  and  two 
words  of  banter  restore  his  good  humor,  and  he  is  convinced, 
as  he  ought  to  be,  that  he  owes  half  his  reputation  to  the 
Noctes." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  his  Life  of  Sir  Walter,  which 
Lockbart  has  so  butchered  in  Frazer  ?" 

"  Did  Lockbart  write  that  ?" 

"  I  was  assured  so  in  London." 

"  It  was  a  barbarous  and  unjustifiable  attack  ;  and,  oddly 
enough,  I  said  so  yesterday  to  Lockbart  himself,  who  was 
here,  and  he  differed  from  me  entirely.  Now  you  mention  it, 
I  think  from  his  manner  he  must  have  written  it." 

"  Will  Hogg  forgive  him  ?" 

"  Never  !  never !  I  do  not  think  he  knows  yet  who  has 
done  it,  but  I  hear  that  he  is  dreadfully  exasperated.  Lock- 
hart  is  quite  wrong.  To  attack  an  old  man,  with  gray  hairs, 
like  the  Shepherd,  and  accuse  him  so  flatly  and  unnecessarily 
of  lie  upon  lie — oh,  it  was  not  right." 

"  Do  you  think  Hogg  misrepresented  facts  willingly  ?" 

"  No,  oh  no  !  he  is  perfectly  honest,  no  doubt,  and  quite 
revered  Sir  Walter.  He  has  an  unlucky  inaccuracy  of  mind, 
however ;  and  his  own  vanity,  which  is  something  quite  ridi- 
culous, has  given  a  coloring  to  his  conversations  with  Scott, 
which  puts  them  in  a  very  false  light ;  and  Sir  Walter,  who 
was  the  best  natured  of  men,  may  have  said  the  things  ascrib* 
ed  to  him  in  a  variety  of  moods,  audi  as  no  one  can  under- 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  29 


etand  wlio  does  not  know  what  a  bore  Hogg  must  sometimes 
have  been  at  Abbottsford.     Do  you  know  Lockhart  ?" 

"  No,  I  do  not.  He  is  almost  the  only  literary  man  in  Lon- 
don I  have  not  met ;  and  I  must  say,  as  the  editor  of  the 
Quarterly,  and  the  most  unfair  and  unprincipled  critic  of  the 
day,  1  have  no  wish  to  know  him.  I  never  heard  him  well 
spoken  of  I  probably  have  met  a  hundred  of  his  acquaint- 
ances, but  I  have  not  seen  one  who  pretended  to  be  his  friend." 

"  Yet  there  is  a  great  deal  of  good  in  Lockhart.  I  allow 
all  you  say  of  his  unfairness  and  severity ;  but  if  he  were  sit- 
ting there,  opposite  you,  you  would  find  him  the  mildest  and 
most  unpresuming  of  men,  and  so  he  appears  in  private  life 
always.'* 

"  Not  always.  A.  celebrated  foreigner,  who  had  been  very 
intimate  with  him,  called  one  morning  to  deprecate  his  severity 
upon  Baron  D'Haussez's  book  in  a  forthcoming  review.  He 
did  his  errand  in  a  friendly  way,  and,  on  taking  his  leave, 
Lockhart,  with  much  ceremony,  accompanied  him  down  to  his 
carriage.  'Pray  don't  give  yourself  the  trouble  to  come 
down,'  said  the  polite  Frenchman.  *  I  make  a  point  of  doing 
it,  sir,'  said  Lockhart,  with  a  very  offensive  manner,  'for  I  un- 
derstand'from  your  friend's  book,  that  we  are  not  considered  a 
polite  nation  in  France.'  Nothing  certainly  could  be  more  ill- 
bred  and  insulting." 

"  Still  it  is  not  his  nature.  I  do  believe  that  it  is  merely  an 
unhappy  talent  that  he  has  for  sarcasm,  with  which  his  heart 
has  nothing  to  do.  When  he  sits  down  to  review  a  book,  he 
never  thinks  of  the  author  or  his  feelings.  He  cuts  it  up  with 
pleasure,  because  he  does  it  with  skill  in  the  way  of  his  pro- 


40  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


fession,  as  a  surgeon  dissects  a  dead  body.  He  would  be  the 
first  to  show  the  man  a  real  khidness  if  he  stood  before  him. 
I  have  known  Lockhart  long.  He  was  in  Edinboro'  a  great 
while,  and  when  he  was  writing  '  Valerius,'  we  were  in  the 
habit  of  walking  out  together  every  morning,  and  when  we 
reached  a  quiet  spot  in  the  country,  he  read  to  me  the  chapters 
as  he  wrote  them.  He  finished  it  in  three  iceeks.  I  heard  it 
all  thus  by  piecemeal  as  it  went  on,  and  had  much  difficulty  in 
persuading  him  that  it  was  worth  publishing.  He  wrote  it 
very  rapidly,  and  thought  nothing  of  it.  We  used  to  sup  to- 
gether with  Blackwood,  and  that  was  the  real  origin  of  the 
*  Noctes.' " 

"  At  Ambrose's  ?"  * 

"At  Ambrose's." 

"  But  is  there  such  a  tavern,  really  ?" 

"  Ob,  certainly.  Anybody  will  show  it  to  you.  It  is  a  small 
house,  kept  in  an  out- of- the- way  corner  of  the  town,  by  Am- 
brose, who  is  an  excellent  fellow  in  his  way,  and  had  a  great 
influx  of  custom  in  consequence  of  his  celebrity  in  the  Noctes. 
"VVe  were  there  one  night  very  late,  and  had  all  been  remarka- 
bly gay  and  agreeable.  'What  a  pity,'  said  Lockhart,  'that 
some  short  hand  writer  had  not  been  here  to  take  down  the 
good  things  that  have  been  said  at  this  supper.'  The  next 
day  he  produced  a  paper  called  '  Noctes  Ambros\2in^^^  and  that 
was  the  first.     I  continued  them  afterward." 

"  Have  you  no  idea  of  publishing  them  separately  ?  I  think 
a  volume  or  two  should  be  made  of  the  more  poetical  and 
aiid  critical  parts,  certainly.     Leaving  out  the  politics  and  the 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  4, 

merely  local  topics  of  the  day,  no  oook  could  be  more  agree- 
able." 

"  It  was  one  of  the  things  pending  when  poor  Blackwood 
was  taken  ill.     But  will  you  have  some  breakfast  ?" 

The  breakfast  had  been  cooling  for  an  hour,  and  I  most 
willingly  acceded  to  his  proposition.  Without  rising,  he 
leaned  back,  with  his  chair  still  toward  the  fire,  and  seizing  the 
tea-pot  as  if  it  were  a  sledge  hammer,  he  poured  from  one  cup 
to  the  other  without  interrupting  the  stream,  overrunning  both 
cup  and  saucer,  and  partly  overflooding  the  tea-tray.  He  then 
set  the  cream  toward  me  with  a  carelessness  which  nearly 
overset  it,  and  in  trying  to  reach  an  egg  from  the  centre  of  the 
table,  broke  two.  He  took  no  notice  of  his  own  awkwardness, 
but  drank  his  cup  of  tea  at  a  single  draught,  ate  his  egg  in 
the  same  expeditious  manner,  and  went  on  talking  of  the 
Noctes  and  Lockhart  and  Blackwood,  as  if  eating  his  break- 
fast were  rather  a  troublesome  parenthesis  in  his  conversation. 
After  a  while  he  digressed  to  Wordsworth  and  Southey,  and 
asked  me  if  I  was  going  to  return  by  the  Lakes.  I  proposed 
doing  so. 

"  I  will  give^  you  letters  to  both,  if  you  haven't  them.  I 
lived  a  long  time  in  that  neighborhood,  and  know  Wordsworth 
perhaps  as  well  as  any  one.  Man}'-  a  day  I  have  walked  over 
the  hills  with  him,  and  listened  to  his  repetition  of  his  own 
poetry,  which  of  course  tilled  my  mind  completely  at  the  time, 
and  perhaps  started  the  poetical  vein  in  me,  though  I  cannot 
agree  with  the-  critics  that  ray  poetry  is  an  imitation  of 
Wordsworth's." 

"  Did  Wordsworth  repeat  any  other  poetry  than  his  own  ?" 


42         FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


"  Never  in  a  single  instance,  to  my  knowledge.  He  is  re- 
markable for  the  manner  in  which  he  is  wrapped  up  in  his  own 
poetical  life.  He  thinks  of  nothing  else.  Everything  is  done 
with  reference  to  it.     He  is  all  and  only  a  poet." 

"  Was  the  story  true  that  was  told  in  the  papers  of  his  see- 
ing, for  the  first  time,  in  a  large  company  some  new  novel  of 
Bcott's,  in  which  there  was  a  motto  taken  from  his  works  ;  and 
that  he  went  immediately  to  the  shelf  and  took  down  one  of 
his  own  volumes  and  read  the  whole  poem  to  the  party,  who 
were  waiting  for  a  reading  of  the  new  book  ?" 

"  Perfectly  true.  It  happened  in  this  very  house.  Words- 
worth was  very  angry  at  the  paragraph,  and  I  believe  accused 
me  of  giving  it  to  the  world.  I  was  as  much  surprised  as 
himself,  however,  to  see  it  in  print." 

"  What  is  Southey's  manner  of  life  ?" 

"  Walter  Scott  said  of  him  that  he  lived  too  much  with  wq- 
men.  He  is  secluded  in  the  country,  and  surrounded  by  a  cir- 
cle of  admiring  friends  who  glorify  every  literary  project  he 
undertakes,  and  persuade  him  in  spite  of  his  natural  modesty, 
that  he  can  do  nothing  wrong  or  imperfectly.  He  has  great 
genius  and  is  a  most  estimable  man." 

"  Hamilton  lives  on  the  Lakes  too — does  he  not  ?' 

"  Yes.  How  terrribly  he  was  annoyed  by  the  review  of  his 
book  in  the  North  American.     Who  wrote  it  ?" 

"  I  have  not  heard  positively,  but  I  presume  it  was  Everett. 
I  know  noboby  else  in  the  country  who  holds  such  a  pen.  He 
is  the  American  Junius." 

"  It  was  excessively  clever  but  dreadfully  severe,  and  Ham- 
ilton was  frantic  about  it.     I  sent  it  to  him  myself,  and  could 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND. 


43 


scarce  have  done  him  a  more  ungracious  office.  But  what  a 
strange  thing  it  is  that  noboily  can  write  a  ^ood  book  on 
America  !  The  ridiculous  part  of  it  seems  to  me  that  men  of 
common  sense  go  there  as  travellers,  and  fill  their  books  with 
scenes  such  as  they  may  see  every  day  within  five  minutes' 
walk  of  their  own  doors,  and  call  them  American.  Vulgar 
people  are  to  be  found  all  over  the  world,  and  I  will  match  any 
scene  in  Hamilton  or  Mrs.  Trollope,  any  day  or  night  here  in 
Edinburgh.  I  have  always  had  an  idea  that  I  should  be  the 
best  traveller  in  America  myself.  I  have  been  so  in  the  habit 
of  associating  with  people  of  every  class  in  my  own  country, 
that  I  am  better  fitted  to  draw  the  proper  distinctions,  I  think, 
between  what  is  universal  over  the  world  or  peculiar  to 
America." 

"  I  promise  you  a  hearty  welcome,  if  you  should  be  inclined 
to  try." 

"  I  have  thought  seriously  of  it.  It  is,  after  all,  not  more 
than  a  journey  to  Switzerland  or  Italy,  of  which  we  think  no- 
thing, and  my  vacation  of  five  months  would  give  me  ample 
time,  I  suppose,  to  run  through  the  principal  cities.  I  shall  do 
it,  I  think." 

I  asked  if  he  had  written  a  poem  of  any  length  within  the 
last  few  years. 

"  No,  though  I  am  always  wishing  to  do  it.  Many  things 
interfere  with  my  poetry.  In  the  first  place  I  am  obliged  to 
give  a  lecture  once  a  day  for  six  months,  and  in  the  summer  it 
is  such  a  delight  to  be  released,  and  get  away  into  the  country 
with  my  girls  and  boys,  that  I  never  put  pen  to  paper  till  I  am 
driven.    Then  Blackwood  is  a  great  care  ;  and,  greater  objec- 


44  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


tion  still,  I  have  been  discouraged  in  various  ways  by  criticism. 
It  used  to  gall -me  to  have^ny  poems  called  imitations  of 
Wordsworth  and  his  school ;  a  thing  I  could  not  see  myself, 
but  which  was  asserted  even  by  those  who  praised  me,  and 
which  modesty  forbade  I  should  disavow.  I  really  can  see  no 
resemblance  between  the  Isle  of  Palms  and  anything  of 
Wordsworth's.  I  think  I  have  a  style  of  my  own,  and  as  my 
ain  harn^  I  think  better  of  it  than  other  people,  and  so  pride 
prevents  my  waiting.  Until  late  years,  too,  I  have  been  the 
subject  of  much  political  abuse,  and  for  that  I  should  not  have 
cared  if  it  were  not  disagreeable  to  have  children  and  servants 
reading  it  in  the  morning  papers,  and  a  fear  of  giving  them 
another  handle  in  my  poetry,  was  another  inducement  for  not 
writing." 

I  expressed  my  surprise  at  what  he  said,  for,  as  far  as  I 
knew  the  periodicals,  Wilson  had  been  a  singularly  continued 
favorite. 

"  Yes,  out  of  this  immediate  sphere,  perhaps — but  it  re- 
quires a  strong  mind  to  suffer  annoyance  at  one's  lips,  and 
comfort  oneself  with  the  praise  of  a  distant  and  outer  circle 
of  public  opinion.  I  had  a  family  growing  up,  of  sons  and 
daughters,  who  felt  for  me  more  than  I  should  have  felt  for 
myself,  and  I  was  annoyed  perpetually.  Now,  these  very  pa- 
pers praise  me,  and  I  really  can  hardly  believe  my  eyes  when 
I  open  them  and  find  the  same  type  and  imprint  expressing 
such  different  opinions.  It  is  absurd  to  mind  such  weather- 
cocks; and,  in  truth,  the  only  people  worth  heeding  or  writing 
for  are  the  quiet  readers  in  the  country,  who  read  for  pleasure, 
and  form  sober  opinions  apart  from  political  or  personal  preju- 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  45 


dice.  I  would  give  more  for  the  praise  of  one  country  cler- 
gyman and  his  family  than  I  would  for  the  admiration  of  a 
whole  city.  People  in  towns  require  a  constant  phantasmago- 
ria, to  keep  up  even  the  remembrance  of  your  name.  "What 
books  and  authors,  what  battles  and  heroes,  are  forgotten  in  a 
day !" 

My  letter  is  getting  too  long,  and  I  must  make  it  shorter, 
as  it  is  vastly  less  agreeable  than  the  visit  itself.  Wilson  went 
on  to  speak  of  his  family,  and  his  eyes  kindled  with  pleasure 
in  talking  of  his  children.  He  invited  me  to  stop  and  visit 
him  at  his  place  near  Selkirk,  in  my  way  south,  and  promised 
Tf^  that  I  should  see  Hogg,  who  lived  not  far  off.  Such  induce- 
ment was  scarce  necessary,  and  I  made  a  half  promise  to  do 
it  and  left  him,  after  having  passed  several  hours  of  the  high- 
est pleasure  in  his  fascinating  society. 


LETTER  VI. 

LORD    JEFFREY    AND    HIS    FAMILY LORD    BROUGHAM COUNT   FLA- 

HAULT POLITICS THE      "  GREY  "     BALL ABERDEEN GORDON 

CASTLE. 

I  WAS  engaged  to  dine  with  Lord  Jeffrey  on  the  same  day 
that  I  had  breakfasted  with  "Wilson,  and  the  opportunity  of 
contrasting  so  closely  these  two  distinguished  men,  both  editors 
of  leading  Eeviews,  yet  of  different  politics,  and  no  less  differ- 
ent minds,  persons,  and  manners,  was  highly  gratifying. 

At  seven  o'clock  I  drove  to  Moray-place,  the  Grosvenor- 
square  of  Edinburgh.  I  was  not  sorry  to  be  early,  for  never 
having  seen  my  host,  nor  his  lady  (who,  as  is  well  known,  is 
an  American,)  I  had  some  little  advantage  over  the  awkward- 
ness of  meeting  a  large  party  of  strangers.  After  a  few  min- 
utes' conversation  with  Mrs.  Jeffrey,  the  door  was  thrown 
quickly  open,  and  the  celebrated  editor  of  the  Edinburgh,  the 

[461 


A  TRIT  TO   SCOTLAiND.  47 


distinguished  lawyer,  the  humane  and  learned  judge,  and  the 
wit  of  the  day,  par  excellence^  entered  with  his  daughter.  A 
frank,  almost  merry  smile,  a  perfectly  unceremonious,  hearty 
manner,  and  a  most  playful  and  graceful  style  of  saying  the 
half  apologetic,  half  courteous  things,  incident  to  a  first  meet- 
ing after  a  letter  of  introduction,  put  me  at  once  at  my  ease, 
and  established  a  partiality  for  him,  impromptu,  in  my  feelings. 
Jeffrey  is  rather  below  the  middle  size,  slight,  rapid  in  his 
speech  and  motion,  never  still,  and  glances  from  one  subject  to 
another,  with  less  abruptness  and  more  quickness  than  any 
man  I  had  ever  seen.  His  head  is  small,  but  compact  and 
well-shaped ;  and  the  expression  of  his  face,  when  serious,  is 
that  of  quick  and  discriminating  earnestness.  His  voice  is  ra- 
ther thin,  but  pleasing ;  and  if  I  had  met  him  incidentally,  I 
should  have  described  him,  I  think,  as  a  most  witty  and  well- 
bred  gentleman  of  the  school  of  Wilkes  and  Sheridan.  Per- 
haps as  distinguishing  a  mark  as  either  his  wut  or, his  polite- 
ness, is  an  honest  goodness  of  heart ;  which,  however  it  makes 
itself  apparent,  no  one  could  doubt,  who  had  been  with  Jeffrey 
ten  minutes. 

To  my  great  disappointment,  Mrs.  Jeffrey  informed  me  that 
Lord  Brougham,  who  was  their  guest  at  the  time,  was  engaged 
to  a  dinner,  given  by  the  new  lord  advocate  to  Earl  Grey.  I 
had  calculated  much  on  seeing  two  such  old  friends  and  fellow- 
wits  as  Jeffrey  and  Brougham  at  the  same  table,  and  I  could 
well  believe  what  my  neighbor  told  me  at  dinner,  that  it  was 
more  than  a  common  misfortune  to  have  missed  it. 

A  large  dinner-party  began  to  assemble,  some  distinguished 
m©Q  in  the  law  among  them,  and  last  of  all  was  announced 


48         FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


Lady  Keith,  rather  a  striking  and  very  fashionable  person, 
with  her  husband,  Count  Flahauit,  who,  after  being  Napoleon's 
aid-de-camp  at  the  battle  of  Waterloo,  offered  his  beauty  and 
talents,  both  very  much  above  the  ordinary  mark,  to  the  above 
named  noble  heiress.  I  have  seen  few  as  striking-looking  men 
as  Count  Flahauit,  and  never  a  foreigner  who  spoke  English 
so  absolutely  like  a  native  of  the  country. 

The  great  "  Grey  dinner  "  had  been  given  the  day  before, 
and  politics  w^ere  the  only  subject  at  table.  It  had  been  my 
lot  to  be  thrown  principally  among  tories  (conservatives  is  the 
new  name,)  since  my  arrival  in  England,  and  it  was  difficult  to 
rid  myself  at  once  of  the  impressions  of  a  fortnight  just  passed 
in  the  castle  of  a  tory  Earl.  My  sympathies  in  the  "great  and 
glorious"  occasion  were  slower  than  those  of  the  company, 
and  much  of  their  enthusiasm  seemed  to  me  overstrained. 
Then  I  had  not  even  dined  with  the  two  thousand  whigs  under 
the  pavilioo,  and  as  I  was  incautious  enough  to  confess  it,  I 
was  rallied  upon  having  fallen  into  bad  company,  and  altoge- 
ther entered  less  into  the  spirit  of  the  hour  than  I  could  have 
wished.  Politics  are  seldom  witty  or  amusing,  and  though  1 
was  charmed  with  the  good  sense  and  occasional  eloquence  of 
Lord  Jeffrey,  I  was  glad  to  get  up  stairs  after  dinner  to  chasse- 
cafe  and  the  ladies. 

We  were  all  bound  to  the  public  ball  that  evening,  and  at 
eleven  I  accompanied  my  distinguished  host  to  the  assembly- 
room.  Dancing  was  going  on  with  great  spirit  when  we  en- 
tered; Lord  Grey's  statesman-like  head  was  bowing  industri- 
ously on  the  platform ;  Lady  Grey  and  her  daughters  sat 
looking  on  from  the  same  elevated  position,  and  Lord  lirough- 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND. 


49 


am's  ugliest  and  shrewdest  of  human  faces,  flitted  about 
through  the  crowd,  good  fellow  to  everybody,  and  followed 
by  all  e3^es  but  those  of  the  young.  One  or  two  of  the  Scotch 
nobility  were  there,  but  whigism  is  not  popular  among  les 
hautes  volailles,  and  the  ball,  though  crowded,  was  but  thinly 
sprinkled  with  "  porcelain."  I  danced  till  three  o'clock,  with- 
out finding  my  partners  better  or  worse  for  their  politics,  and 
having  aggravated  a  temporary  lameness  by  my  exertions, 
went  home  with  a  leg  like  an  elephant  to  repent  my  abandon- 
ment of  tory  quiet.  ' 

Two  or  three  days  under  the  hands  of  the  doctor,  with  the 
society  of  a  Highland  crone,  of  whose  ceaseless  garrulity  over 
my  poultices  and  plasters  I  could  not  understand  two  conse- 
cutive words,  fairly  finished  my  patience,  and  abandoning  with 
no  little  regret  a  charming  land  route  to  the  north  of  Scotland, 
I  had  myself  taken,  "  this  side  up,"  on  board  the  steamer  for 
Aberdeen.  The  loss  of  a  wedding  in  Perthshire  by  the  way, 
of  a  week's  deer  shooting  in  the  forest  of  Athol,  and  a  week's 
fishing  with  a  noble  friend  at  Kinrara,  (long-standing  engage- 
ments all,)  I  lay  at  the  door  of  the  whigs.  Add  to  this  Loch 
Leven^  Cairn-Gorm,  the  pass  of  Killicrankie,  other  sights  lost 
on  that  side  of  Scotland,  and  I  paid  dearly  for  "  the  Grey . 
ball." 

We  steamed  the  hundred  and  twenty  miles  in  twelve  hours, 
paying  about  three  dollars  for  our  passage.  I  mention  it  for 
the  curiosity  of  a  cheap  thing  in  this  country. 

I  lay  at  Aberdeen  four  days,  getting  out  but  once,  and  then 
for  a  drive  to  the  "  Marichal  College,"  the  Alma  Mater  of  Du- 
gald  Dalgetty.     It  is  a  curious   and  rather  picturesque  old 
3 


50  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

■  ^ 

place,  half  in  ruins,  and  is  about  being  pulled  down.  A  Scotch 
gentleman,  who  was  a  fellow  passenger  in  the  steamer,  and 
who  lived  in  the  town,  called  on  me  kindly  twice  a  day, 
brought  me  books  and  papers,  offered  me  the  use  of  his  car- 
riage, and  did  everything  for  my  comfort  that  could  have  been 
suggested  by  the  warmest  friendship.  Considering  that  it  was 
a  casual  acquaintance  of  a  day,  it  speaks  well,  certainly,  for. 
the  "  Good  Samaritanism  "  of  Scotland. 

I  took  two  places  in  the  coach  at  last  (one  for  my  leg,)  and 
bowled  away  seventy  miles  across  the  country,  with  the  de- 
lightful speed  of  these  admirable  contrivances,  for  Gordon 
Castle.  I  arrived  at  Lochabers,  a  small  town  on  the  estate  of 
the  Duke  of  Gordon,  at  three  in  the  afternoon,  and  immedi- 
ately took  a  post-chaise  for  the  castle,  the  gate  of  which  was 
a  stone's  throw  from  the  inn. 

The  immense  iron  gate  surmounted  by  the  Gordon  arms, 
the  handsome  and  spacious  stone  lodges  on  either  side,  the 
canonically  fat  porter  in  white  stockings  and  gay  livery,  lift- 
ing his  hat  as  he  swung  open  the  massive  portal,  all  bespoke 
the  entrance  to  a  noble  residence.  The  road  within  was 
edged  with  velvet  sward,  and  rolled  to  the  smoothness  of  a 
terrace  walk,  the  winding  avenue  lengthened  away  before, 
with  trees  of  every  variety  of  foliage ;  light  carriages  passed 
me  driven  by  ladies  or  gentlemen  bound  on  their  afternoon 
airing  ;  a  groom  led  up  and  down  two  beautiful  blood-horses, 
prancing  along,  with  sidesaddles  and  morocco  stirrups,  and 
keepers  with  hounds  and  terriers ;  gentlemen  on  foot,  idling 
along  the  walks,  and  servants  in  different  liveries,  hurrying  to 
and  fro,  betokened  a  scene  of  busy  gayety  before  me.     I  had 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  5I 

hardly  noted  these  various  circumstances,  before  a  sudden 
curve  in  the  road  brought  the  castle  into  view,  a  vast  stone 
pile  with  castellated  wings,  and  in  another  moment  I  was  at 
the  door,  where  a  dozen  lounging  and  powdered  menials  were 
waiting  on  a  party  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  to  their  several 
carriages.     It  was  the  moment  for  the  afternoon  drive. 


LETTER   VI  I, 


GORDON  CASTLE — COMPANY  THERE — THE  PARK DUKE  OF  GORDON 

PERSONAL  BEAUTY  OF  THE  ENGLISH  ARISTOCRACY. 

The  last  phaeton  dashed  away,  and  my  chaise  advanced  to 
the  door.  A  handsome  boy,  in  a  kind  of  page's  dress,  imme- 
diately came  to  the  window,  addressed  me  by  name,  and  in- 
formed me  that  His  Grace  was  out  deer-shooting,  but  that  my 
room  was  prepared,  and  he  was  ordered  to  wait  on  me.  I  fol- 
lowed him  through  a  hall  lined  with  statues,  deers'  horns,  and 
armor,  and  was  ushered  into  a  large  chamber,  looking  out  on 
a  park,  extending  with  its  lawns  and  woods  to  the  edge  of  the 
horizon.     A  more  lovely  view  never  feasted  human  eye. 

"  Who  is  at  the  castle  ?"  I  asked,  as  the  boy  busied  himself 
in  unstrapping  my  portmanteau. 

"Oh,  a  great  mtmy,  sir."  He  stopped  in  his  occupation, 
and  began  counting  on  his  fingers.  "  There's  Lord  Aberdeen, 

r521 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  gg 

and  Lord  Claud  Hamilton  and  Lady  Harriette  Hamilton 
(them's  his  lordship's  two  stepchildren,  you  know,  sir,)  and 
the  Dutchess  of  Richmond  and  Lady  Sophia  Lennox,  and  La- 
dy Keith,  and  Lord  Mandeville  and  Lord  Aboyne,  and  Lord 
Storrnont  and  Lady  Stormont,  and  Lord  Morton  and  Lady 
Morton,  and  Lady  Alicia,  and — and — and — twenty  more,  sir." 

"  Twenty  more  lords  and  ladies  ?" 

"  No,  sir  I  that's  all  the  nobility." 

"  And  you  ftan't  remember  the  names  of  the  others  ?" 

"No,  sir." 

He  was  a  proper  page.  He  could  not  trouble  his  memory 
with  the  names  of  commoners. 

"  And  how  many  sit  down  to  dinner?" 

"Above  thirty,  besides  the  Duke  and  Dutchess." 

"  That  will  do."  And  off  tripped  my  slender  gentleman 
with  his  laced  jacket,  giving  the  fire  a  terrible  stir-up  in  his 
way  out,  and  turning  back  to  inform  me  that  the  dinner  hour 
was  seven  precisely. 

It  was  a  mild,  bright  afternoon,  quite  warm  for  the  end  of 
an  English  September,  and  with  a  fire  in  the  room,  and  a  soft 
sunshine  pouring  in  at  the  windows,  a  seat  by  the  open  case- 
ment was  far  from  disagreeable.  I  passed  the  time  till  the 
sun  set,  looking  out  on  the  park.  Hill  and  valley  lay  between 
my  eye  and  the  horizon  ;  sheep  fed  in  picturesque  flocks,  and 
small  fallow  deer  grazed  near  them ;  the  trees  were  planted, 
and  the  distant  forest  shaped  by  the  hand  of  taste ;  and  broad 
and  beautiful  as  was  the  expanse  taken  in  by  the  eye,  it  was 
evidently  one  princely  possession.  A  mile  from  the  castle 
wall,  the  shaven  sward  extended  in  a  carpet  of  velvet  softness, 


•54  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


as  bright  as  emerald,  studded  by  clumps  of  shrubbery,  like 
flowers  wrought  elegantly  on  tapestry  ;  and  across  it  bounded 
occasionally  a  hare,  and  the  pheasants  feel  undisturbed  near 
the  thickets,  or  a  lady  with  flowing  riding-dress  and  flaunt- 
ing feather,  dashed  into  sight  upon  her  fleet  blood-palfrey,  and 
was  lost  the  next  moment,  in  the  woods,  or  a  boy  pmt  his  pony 
to  its  mettle  up  the  ascent,  or  a  gamekeeper  idled  into  sight 
with  his  gun  in  the  hollow  of  his  arm,  and  his  hounds  at  his 
heels — and  all  this  little  world  of  enjoyment  and  luxury,  and 
beauty,  lay  in  the  hand  of  one  man,  and  was  created  by  his 
wealth  iI^ these  northern  wilds  of  Scotland,  a  day's  journey 
almost  from  the  possession  of  another  human  being.  I  never 
realized  so  forcibly  the  splendid  result  of  w^ealth  and  primo- 
geniture. 

The  sun  set  in  a  blaze  of  fire  among  the  pointed  firs  crown- 
ing the  hills,  and  by  the  occasional  prance  of  a  horse's  feet 
on  the  gravel,  and  the  roll  of  rapid  wheels,  and  now  and  then 
a  gay  laugh  and  merry  voices,  the  different  parties  were  re- 
turning to  the  castle.  Soon  after  a  loud  gong  sounded  through 
the  gallery,  the  signal  to  dress,  and  I  left  my  musing  occupa- 
tion unwillingly  to  make  my  toilet  for  an  appearance  in  a  for- 
midable circle  of  titled  aristocrats,  not  one  of  whom  I  had 
ever  seen,  the  Duke  himself  a  stranger  to  me,  except  through 
the  kind  letter  of  introduction  lying  upon  the  table. 

I  was  sitting  by  the  fire  imagining  forms  and  faces  for  the 
diff*erent  persons  who  had  been  named  to  me,  when  there  was 
ft  knock  at  the  door,  and  a  tall,  white-haired  gentleman,  of 
noble  physiognomy,  but  sinfjularly  cordial  address,  entered, 
with  the  broad  red  riband  of  a  duke  across  his  breast,  and 


A  TRIP  TO   SCOTLAND.  55 

welcomed  me  most  heartily  to  the  castle.  The  gong  sounded 
at  the  next  moment,  and,  in  our  way  down,  he  named  over 
his  other  guests,  and  prepared  me  in  a  measure  for  the  intro- 
ductions which  followed.  The  drawing-room  was  crowded 
like  a  soiree.  The  Dutchess,  a  very  tall  and  very  handsome 
woman,  with  a  smile  of  the  most  winning  sweetness,  received 
me  at  the  door,  and  I  was  presented  successively  to  every  per- 
son present.  Dinner  was  announced  immediately,  and  the  dif- 
ficult question  of  precedence  being  sooner  settled  than  I  had 
ever  seen  it  before  in  so  large  a  party,  we  passed  through  files 
of  servants  to  the  dining  room.  ? 

It  was  a  large  and  very  lofty  hall,  supported  at  the  ends 
by  marble  columns,  within  which  was  stationed  a  band  of 
music,  playing  delightfully.  The  walls  were  lined  with  full 
length  family  pictures,  from  old  knights  in  armor  to  the 
modern  dukes  in  kilt  of  the  Gordon  plaid;  and  on  the  side^ 
boards  stood  services  of  gold  plate,  the  most  gorgeously  mas« 
sive,  and  the  most  beautiful  in  workmanship  I  have  ever  seen. 
There  were,  among  the  vases,  several  large  coursing-cups, 
won  by  the  duke's  hounds,  of  exquisite  shape  and  ornament. 

I  fell  into  my  place  between  a  gentleman  and  a  very  beau- 
tiful w^oman,  of  perhaps  twenty-two,  neither  of  whose  names  I 
remembered,  though  I  had  but  just  been  introduced.  The 
Duke  probably  anticipated  as  much,  and  as  I  took  my  seat 
he  called  out  to  me,  from  the  top  of  the  table,  that  I  had  up- 
on   my  right,  Lady   ,  "  the   most   agreeable  w^oman  in 

Scotland."     It  was  unnecessary  to  say  that  she  was  the  most 
lovely. 

I  have  been  struck  every  where  in  England  with  the  beauty 


56  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

of  the  higher  classes,  and  as  I  looked  around  me  upon  the 
aristocratic  company  at  the  table,  I  thought  I  never  had 
seen  "  heaven's  image  double-stamped  as  man  and  noble  "  so 
unequivocally  clear.  There  were  two  young  men  and  four 
or  five  young  ladies  of  rank — and  five  or  six  people  of  more 
decided  personal  attractions  could  scarcely  bo  found;  the 
style  of  form  and  face  at  the  same  time  being  of  that  cast 
of  superiority  which  goes  by  the  expressive  name  of  "  tho- 
roughbred." There  is  a  striking  difference  in  this  respect 
between  England  and  the  countries  on  the  continent — the 
paysans  of  France  and  the  bontadini  of  Italy  being  physically 
far  superior  to  their  degenerate  masters ;  while  the  gentry 
and  nobility  of  England  differ  from  the  peasantry  in  limb  and 
feature  as  the  racer  differs  from  the  dray-horse,  or  the  grey- 
hound from  the  cur.  The  contrast  between  the  manners  of 
English  and  French  gentlemen  is  quite  as  striking.  The  cm- 
pressmert^  the  warmth,  the  shrug  and  gesture  of  the  Parisian, 
and  the  working  eyebrow,  dilating  or  contracting  eye,  and 
conspirator-like  action  of  the  Italian  in  the  most  common  con- 
versation, are  the  antipodes  of  English  high  breeding.  I  should 
say  a  North  American  Indian,  in  his  more  dignified  phase, 
approached  nearer  to  the  manner  of  an  English  nobleman  than 
any  other  person.  The  calm  repose  of  person  and  feature, 
the  self  possession  under  all  circumstances,  that  incapability 
of  surprise  or  dereglement^  and  that  decision  about  the  slight- 
est circumstance,  and  the  apparent  certainty  that  he  is  act- 
ing absolutely  comme  il  faut^  is  equally  *'  gentlemanlike" 
and    Indianlike.      You   cannot   astonish  an  English  gentle- 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  57 


man.  If  a  man  goes  into  a  fit  at  his  side,  or  a  servant 
drops  a  dish  upon  his  shoulder,  or  he  hears  that  the  house 
is  on  fire,  he  sets  down  his  wine-glass  with  the  same  delib- 
eration. He  has  made  up  his  mind  what  to  do  in  all  pos- 
sible cases,  and  he  does  it.  He  is  cold  at  a  first  introduction, 
and  may  bow  stiffly,  (which  he  always  does)  in  drinking 
wine  with  you,  but  it  is  his  manner;  and  he  would  think  an 
Englishman  out  of  his  senses  who  should  bow  down  to  his 
very  plate  and  smile  as  a  Frenchman  does  on  a  similar  occa- 
sion. Eather  chilled  by  this,  you  are  a  little  astonished 
when  the  ladies  have  left  the  table,  and  he  closes  his  chair  up 
to  you,  to  receive  an  invitation  to  pass  a  month  with  him  at 
his  country  house,  and  to  discover  that  at  the  very  moment  he 
bowed  so  coldly,  he  was  thinking  how^  he  should  contrive  to 
facilitate  your  plans  for  getting  to  him  or  seeing  the  country 
to  advantage  on  the  way. 

The  band  ceased  playing  when  the  ladies  left  the  table,  the 
gentlemen  closed  up,  conversation  assumed  a  merrier  cast, 
coffee  and  chasse-cafe  were  brought  in  when  the  wines  began 
to  be  circulated  more  slowly ;  and  at  eleven,  there  was  a 
general  move  to  the  drawing-room.  Cards,  tea,  and  music, 
filled  up  the  time  till  twelve,  and  then  the  ladies  took  their 
departure,  and  the  gentlemen  sat  down  to  supper.  I  got 
to  bed  somewhere  about  two  o'clock ;  and  thus  ended  an 
evening  which  I  had  anticipated  as  stiff  and  embarrassing, 
but  which  is  marked  in  my  tablets  as  one  of  the  most  social 
and  kindly  I  have  had  the  good  fortune  to  record  on  my  trav- 
els. I  have  described  it,  and  shall  describe  others  minutely — 
3* 


58  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  TLACES. 


and  I  hope  there  is  no  necessity  of  my  reminding  any  one  that 
my  apology  for  thus  disclosing  scenes  of  private  life  has  been 
already  made.  Their  interest  as  sketches  by  an  American  ot 
the  society  that  most  interests  Americans,  and  the  distance  at 
which  they  are  published,  justify  them,  I  would  hope,  from 
any  charge  of  indelicacy. 


LETTER   VIII. 

ENGLISH    BREAKFASTS SALMON    FISHERY LORD     ABERDEEN MR. 

MC  LANE SPORTING  ESTABLISHMENT  OF  GORDON  CASTLE. 

I  AROSE  late  on  the  first  morning  after  my  arrival  at  Gordon 
Castle,  and  found  the  large  party  already  assembled  about  the 
breakfast  table.  I  was  struck  on  entering  with  the  different 
air  of  the  room.  The  deep  windows,  opening  out  upon  the 
park,  had  the  effect  of  sombre  landscapes  in  oaken  frames ; 
the  troops  of  liveried  servants,  the  glitter  of  plate,  the  music, 
that  had  contributed  to  the  splendor  of  the  night  before,  were 
gone  ;  the  Duke  sat  laughing  at  the  head  of  the  table,  with  a 
newspaper  in  his  hand,  dressed  in  a  coarse  shooting  jacket 
and  colored  cravat ;  the  Dutchess  was  in  a  plain  morning- 
dress  and  cap  of  the  simplest  character ;  and  the  high-born 
women  about  the  table,  whom  I  had  left  glittering  with  jewels, 
and  dressed  in  all  the  attractions  of  fashion,  appeared  with  the 
simplest  coiffure  and  a  toilet  of  studied  plainness.  The  ten  or 
twelve  noblemen  present  were  engrossed  with  their  letters  or 

[59J 


QQ  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

• 

newspapers  over  tea  and  toast ;  and  in  them,  perhaps,  the 
transformation  was  still  greater.  The  soigne  man  of  fashion 
of  the  night  before,  faultless  in  costume  and  distinguished  in 
his  appearance,  in  the  full  force  of  the  term,  was  enveloped 
now  in  a  coat  of  fustian,  with  a  coarse  waistcoat  of  plaid,  a 
gingham  cravat,  and  hob-nailed  shoes,  (for  shooting,)  and  in 
place  of  the  gay  hilarity  of  the  supper  table,  wore  a  face  of 
calm  indifiference,  and  ate  his  breakfast  and  read  the  paper  in 
a  rarely  broken  silence.  I  wondered,  as  I  looked  about  me, 
what  would  be  the  impression  of  many  people  in  my  own 
country,  could  they  look  in  upon  that  plain  party,  aware  that 
it  was  composed  of  the  proudest  nobility  and  the  highest  fash- 
ion of  England. 

Breakfast  in  England  is  a  confidential  and  unceremonious 
hour,  and  servants  are  generally  dispensed  with.  This  is  to 
me,  I  confess,  an  advantage  over  every  other  meal.  I  detest 
eating  with  twenty  tall  fellows  standing  opposite,  whose  busi- 
ness it  is  to  watch  me.  The  coffee  and  tea  were  on  the  ta- 
ble, with  toast,  muffins,  oat-cakes,  marmalade,  jellies,  fish,  and 
all  the  paraphernalia  of  a  Scotch  breakfast ;  and  on  the  side- 
board stood  cold  meats  for  those  who  liked  them,  and  they 
were  expected  to  go  to  it  and  help  themselves.  Nothing 
could  be  more  easy,  unceremonious,  and  affable,  than  the 
whole  tone  of  the  meal.  One  after  another  rose  and  fell  into 
groups  in  the  windows,  or  walked  up  and  down  the  long  room 
— and,  with  one  or  two  others,  I  joined  the  Duke  at  the  head 
of  the  table,  who  gave  us  some  interesting  particulars  of  the 
salmon  fisheries  of  the  Spey.  The  privilege  of  fishing  the 
river  within  his  lands,  is  bought  of  him  at  the  pretty  sum  of 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  gj 

eight  thousand  pounds  a  year  !  A  salmon  was  brought  in  for 
me  to  see,  as  of  remarkable  size,  which  was  not  more  than  half 
the  weight  of  our  common  American  salmon. 

The  ladies  w^ent  oiOf  unaccompanied  to  their  walks  in  the 
park  and  other  avocations,  those  bound  for  the  covers  joined 
the  gamekeepers,  who  were  waiting  with  their  dogs  in  tho 
leash  at  the  stables;  some  paired  off  to  the  billiard-room,  and 
I  w^as  left  with  Lord  Aberdeen  in  the  breakfast  room  alone. 
The  tory  ex-minister  made  many  inquiries,  with  great  apparent 
interest,  about  America.  When  secretary  for  foreign  affairs, 
in  tho  Wellington  cabinet,  he  had  known  Mr.  McLane  inti- 
mately. He  said  he  seldom  had  been  so  impressed  with  a 
man's  honesty  and  straightforwardness,  and  never  did  public 
business  with  any  one  with  more  pleasure.  He  admired  Mr. 
McLane,  and  hoped  he  enjoyed  his  friendship.  He  wished  he 
might  return  as  our  minister  to  England.  One  such  honora- 
ble, uncompromising  man,  he  said,  was  w^orth  a  score  of  prac- 
tised diplomatists.  He  spoke  of  Gallatin  and  Eush  in  the 
same  flattering  manner,  but  recurred  continually  to  Mr. 
McLane,  of  whom  he  could  scarcely  say  enough.  His  poli- 
tics would  naturally  lead  him  to  approve  of  the  administration 
of  General  Jackson,  but  he  seemed  to  admire  the  President 
very  much  as  a  man. 

Lord  Aberdeen  has  the  name  of  being  the  proudest  and 
coldest  aristocrat  of  England.  It  is  amusing  to  see  the  person 
who  bears  such  a  character.  He  is  of  the  middle  height,  ra- 
ther clumsily  made,  with  an  address  more  of  sober  dignity 
than  of  pride  or  reserve.  With  a  black  coat  much  worn,  and 
always  too  large  for  him,  a  pair  of  coarse  check  trousers  very 


62  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


ill  made,  a  waistcoat  buttoned  up  to  his  throat,  and  a  cravat 
of  the  most  primitive  neglige^  his  aristocracy  is  certainly  not 
in  his  dress.  His  manners  are  of  absolute  simplicity,  amount- 
ing almost  to  want  of  style.  He  crosses  his  hands  behind 
him,  and  balances  on  his  heels;  in  conversation  his  voice  is 
low  and  cold,  and  he  seldom  smiles.  Yet  there  is  a  certain 
benignity  in  his  countenance,  and  an  indefinable  superiority 
and  high  breeding  in  his  simple  address,  that  would  betray 
his  rank  after  a  few  minutes'  conversation  to  any  shrewd  ob- 
server. It  is  only  in  his  manner  toward  the  ladies  of  the  party 
that  he  would  be  immediately  distinguishable  from  men  of 
lower  rank  in  society. 

Still  suffering  from  lameness,  I  declined  all  invitations  to 
the  shooting  parties,  who  started  across  the  park,  with  the 
dogs  leaping  about  them  in  a  phrensy  of  delight,  and  accepted 
the  Dutchess's  kind  offer  of  a  pony  phaeton  to  drive  dow^n  to 
the  kennels.  The  Duke's  breed,  both  of  setters  and  hounds, 
is  celebrated  throughout  the  kingdom.  They  occupy  a  spa- 
cious building  in  the  centre  of  a  wood,  a  quadrangle  enclosing 
a  court,  and  large  enough  for  a  respectable  poor-house.  The 
chief  huntsman  and  his  family,  and  perhaps  a  gamekeeper  or 
two,  lodge  on  the  premises,  and  the  dogs  are  divided  by  pa- 
lings across  the  court.  I  was  rather  startled  to  be  introduced 
into  the  small  enclosure  with  a  dozen  gigantic  blood-hounds, 
as  high  as  my  breast,  the  keeper's  whip  in  my  hand  the  only 
defence.  I  was  not  easier  for  the  man's  assertion  that,  with- 
out it,  they  would  "  hae  the  life  oot  o'  me  in  a  crack."  They 
came  around  me  very  quietly,  and  one  immense  fellow,  with  a 
chest  like  a  horse,  and  a  head  of  the  finest  expression,  stood 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  ^^ 


up  and  laid  his  paws  on  my  shoulders,  with  the   dehberation 
of  a  friend  Jibout  to  favor  me  with  some  grave  advice.     One 
can  scarce  believe  these  noble  creatures  have  not  reason  like 
ourselves.     Those  slender,  thorough-bred  heads,  large,  speak- 
ing eyes,  and  beautiful  limbs  and  graceful   action,  should  be 
gifted  with  more  than  mere  animal  instinct.     The  greyhounds 
were  the  beauties  of  the  kennel,  however.     I   never  had  seen 
such  perfect  creatures.     "  Dinna  tak'  pains  to  caress  'em,  sir," 
said  the  huntsman,  "  they'll  only  be  hangit  for  it !"      I  asked 
for  an  explanation,  and  the  man,  with  an  air  as  if  I  was  un* 
commonly  ignorant,  told  me  that  a  hound  was  hung  the  mo- 
ment  he   betrayed   attachment  to  any  one,   or  in   any  way 
showed  signs  of  superior  sagacity.     In  coursing  the  hare,  for 
instance,  if  the  dog  abandoned  the  scent  to  cut  across  and  in- 
tercept the  poor   animal,  he  was  considered  as   spoiling  the 
sport.     Greyhounds  are  valuable  only  as  they  obey  their  mere 
natural  instinct,  and  if  they  leave  the  track  of  the  hare,  either 
in  their  own  sagacity,  or  to  follow  their  master,  in  intercepting 
it,  they  spoil  the  pack,  and  are  hung  without  mercy.     It  is  an 
object,  of  course,  to  preserve  them  what  they  usually  are,  the 
greatest  fools  as  well  as  the  handsomest  of  the  canine  species 
— and  on  the  first  sign  of  attachment  to   their   master,  their 
death  warrant  is  signed.     They  are  too  sensible  to  live.     The 
Dutchess  told  me  afterward  that  she  had  the  greatest  difficul- 
ty in  saving  the  life  of  the  finest  hound  in  the  pack,  who  had 
committed  the  sin  of  showing  pleasure  once  or  twice  when  she 
appeared. 

The  setters  were  in  the  next  division,  and  really  they  wefe 
quite  lovely.     The  rare  tan  and  black  dog  of  this  race,  with 


64  JbAMODS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


his  silky,  floss  hair,  intelligent  muzzle,  good-humored  face  and 
caressing  fondness  (lucky  dog!  that  afiection  is  permitted  in 
his  family  !)  quite  excited  my  admiration.  There  were  thirty 
or  forty  of  these,  old  and  young;  and  a  friend  of  the  Duke's 
would  as  soon  ask  him  for  a  church  living  as  for  the  present 
of  one  of  them.  The  former  would  be  by  much  the  smaller 
favor.  Then  there  were-terriers  of  four  or  five  breeds,  of  one 
family  of  which  (long-haired,  long-bodied,  short-legged,  and 
perfectly  white  little  wretches)  the  keeper  seemed  particularly 
proud.  I  evidently  sunk  in  his  opinion  for  not  admiring  them. 
I  passed  the  remainder  of  the  morning  in  threading  4he 
lovely  alleys  and  avenues  of  the  park,  miles  after  miles  of  gra- 
vel walk,  extending  away  in  every  direction,  with  every  varie- 
ty of  turn  and  shade,  now  a  deep  wood,  now  a  sunny  opening 
upon  a  glade,  here  along  the  bank  of  a  stream,  and  there 
around  the  borders  of  a  small  lagoon,  the  little  ponies  flying 
on  over  the  smoothly-rolled  paths,  and  tossing  their  mimick- 
ing heads,  as  if  they  too  enjoyed  the  beauty  of  the  princely 
domain.  This,  I  thought  to  myself,  as  I  sped  on  through 
light  and  shadow,  is  very  like  what  is  called  happiness ;  and 
this  (if  to  be  a  duke  were  to  enjoy  it  as  I  do  with  this  fresh 
feeling  of  novelty  and  delight)  is  a  condition  of  life  it  is  not 
quite  irrational  to  ^nvy.  And  giving  my  little  steeds  the  rein, 
I  repeated  to  myself  Scott's  graphic  description,  which  seems 
written  for  the  park  of  Gordon  castle,  and  thanked  Heaven 
for  one  more  day  of  unalloyed  happiness. 

''  And  there  soft  swept  in  velvet  green, 
The  plain  with  many  a  glade  between 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  55 


"  Whose  tangled  alleys  far  inyade 

The  depths  of  the  brown  forest  shade  ; 
And  the  tall  fern  obscured  the  lawn. 
Fair  shelter  for  the  sportive  fawn. 
There,  tufted  close  with  copse-wood  green, 
"Was  many  a  swelling  hillock  seen, 
And  all  around  was  verdure  meet 
For  pressure  of  the  fairies'  feet. 
The  glossy  valley  loved  the  park, 
The  yew  tree  lent  its  shadows  dark, 
And  many  an  old  oak  worn  and  bare. 
With  all  its  shivered  boughs  was  there." 


LETTER  IX 


SCOTCH  HOSPITALITY IMMENSE    POSSESSIONS    OF    THE    NOBILITY 

DUTCHEBS'  INFANT    SCHOOL — MANNERS  OF  HIGH  LIFE THE  TONE 

OF  CONVERSATION  IN  ENGLAND  AND  AMERICA  CONTRASTED. 

The  aim  of  Scotch  hospitality  seems  to  be,  to  convince  you 
that  the  house  and  all  that  is  in  it  is  your  own,  and  you  are  at 
liberty  to  enjoy  it  as  if  you  were,  in  the  French  sense  of  the 
Prench  phrase,  chez  vous.  The  routine  of  Gordon  castle  was 
what  each  one  chose  to  make  it.  Between  breakfast  and 
lunch  the  ladies  were  generally  invisible,  and  the  gentlerrien 
rode  or  shot,  or  played  billiards,  or  kept  their  rooms.  At  two 
o'clock,  a  dish  or  two  of  hot  game  and  a  profusion  of  cold 
meats  were  set  on  the  small  tables  in  the  dining  room,  and 
every  body  came  in  for  a  kind  of  lounging  half  meal,  which 
occupied  perhaps  an  hour.  Thence  all  adjourned  to  the  draw- 
ing-room, under  the  windows  of  which  were  drawn  up  car- 

[661 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  67 


riages  of  all  descriptions,  with  grooms,  outriders,  footmen,  and 
saddle  horses  for  gentlemen  and  ladies.  Parties  were  then 
made  up  for  driving  or  riding,  and  from  a  pony  chaise  to  a 
phaeton  and  four,  there  was  no  class  of  vehicle  which  was  not 
at  your  disposal.  In  ten  minutes  the  carriages  were  usually 
all  filled,  and  away  they  flew,  some  to  the  banks  of  the  Spey 
or  the  sea-side,'  some  to  the  drives  in  the  park,  and  with  the 
delightful  consciousness  that,  speed  where  you  would,  the  ho- 
rizon scarce  limited  the  possession  of  your  host,  and  you  were 
everywhere  at  home.  The  ornamental  gates  flying  open  at 
your  approach,  miles  distant  from  the  castle  ;  the  herds  of  red 
deer  trooping  away  from  the  sound  of  wheels  in  the  silent 
park ;  the  stately  pheasants  feeding  tamely  in  the  immense 
preserves ;  the  hares  scarce  troubling  themselves  to  get  out 
of  the  length  of  the  whip;  the  stalking  gamekeepers  lifting 
their  hats  in  the  dark  recesses  of  th.e  forest — there  was  some- 
thing in  this  perpetual  reminding  of  your  privileges,  which,  as 
a  novelty,  was  far  from  disagreeable.  I  could  not  at  the  time 
bring  myself  to  feel,  what  perhaps  would  be  more  poetical  and 
republican,  that  a  ride  in  the  wild  and  unfenced  forest  of  my 
own  country  would  have  been  more  to  my  taste. 

The  second  afternoon  of  my  arrival,  I  took  a  seat  in  the 
carriage  with  Lord  Aberdeen  and  his  daughter,  and  we  fol- 
lowed the  Dutchess,  who  drove  herself  in  a  pony-chaise,  to 
visit  a  school  on  the  estate.  Attached  to  a  small  gothic  cha- 
pel, a  few  minutes'  drive  from  the  castle,  stood  a  building  in 
the  same  style,  appropriated  to  the  instruction  of  the  children 
of  the  Duke's  tenantry.  There  were  a  hundred  and  thirty 
little  creatures,  from  two  years  to  five  or  six,  and,  like  all  infant 


68  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


schools  in  these  days  of  improved  education,  it  was  an  inter- 
esting and  affecting  sight.  The  last  one  I  had  been  in  was  at 
Athens,  and  though  I  missed  here  the  dark  eyes  and  Grecian 
faces  of  the  -^gean,  I  saw  health  and  beauty  of  a  kind  which 
stirred  up  more  images  of  home,  and  promised,  perhaps,  more 
for  the  future.  They  went  through  their  evolutions,  and  an- 
swered their  questions,  -vsath  an  intelligence  and  cheerfulness 
that  were  quite  delightful,  and  I  was  sorry  to  leave  them  even 
for  a  drive  in  the  loveliest  sun-set  of  a  lingering  day  of 
summer. 

People  in  Europe  are  more  curious  about  the  comparison 
of  the  natural  productions  of  America  with  those  of  England 
than  about  our  social  and  political  differences,  A  man  who 
does  not  care  to  know  whether  the  president  has  destroyed 
the  bank,  or  the  bank  the  president,  or  whether  Mrs.  Trol- 
lope  has  flattered  the  Americans  or  not,  will  be  very  much  in- 
terested to  know  if  the  pine  tree  in  his  park  is  comparable  to 
the  same  tree  in  America,  if  the  same  cattle  are  found  there, 
or  the  woods  stocked  with  the  same  game  as  his  own.  I 
would  recommend  a  little  study  of  trees  particularly,  and  of 
vegetation  generally,  as  valuable  knowledge  for  an  American 
coming  abroad.  I  think  there  is  nothing  on  which  I  have 
been  so  often  questioned.  The  Dutchess  led  the  way  to  a 
plantation  of  American  trees,  at  some  distance  from  the  cas- 
tle^ and  stopping  beneath  some  really  noble  firs,  asked  if  our 
forest  trees  were  often  larger,  with  an  air  as  if  she  believed 
they  were  not.  They  were  shrubs,  however,  compared  to  the 
gigantic  productions  of  the  West.     Whatever   else  we  may 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  59 

see  abroad,  we  must  return  home  to  find  the  magnificence 
of  nature. 

The  number  at  the  dinner  table  of  Gordon  castle  was  sel- 
dom less  than  thirty,  but  the  company  was  continually  varied 
by  departures  and  arrivals.  No  sensation  was  made  by  either 
one  or  the  other.  A  travelling  carriage  dashed  up  to  the 
door,  was  disburdened  of  its  load,  and  drove  round  to  the 
stables,  and  the  question  was  seldom  asked,  "Who  is  arri- 
ved ?"  You  were  sure  to  see  at  dinner — and  an  addition 
of  half  a  dozen  to  the  party  made  no  perceptible  difference  in 
anything.  Leave-takings  were  managed  in  the  same  quiet 
way.  Adieus  were  made  to  the  Duke  and  Dutchess,  and  to 
no  one  else,  except  he  happened  to  encounter  the  parting 
guest  upon  the  staircase,  or  were  more  than  a  common  ac- 
quaintance. In  short,  in  every  way  the  gene  of  life  seemed 
weeded  out,  and  if  unhappiness  or  ennui  found  its  way  into 
the  castle,  it  was  introduced  in  the  sufferer's  own  bosom.  For 
me,  I  gave  myself  up  to  enjoyment  with  an  abandon  I  could 
not  resist.  "With  kindness  and  courtesy  in  every  look,  the 
luxuries  and  comforts  of  a  regal  establishment  at  my  freest 
disposal ;  solitude  when  I  pleased,  company  when  I  pleased, 
the  whole  visible  horizon  fenced  in  for  the  enjoyment  of  a 
household,  of  which  I  was  a  temporary  portion,  and  no  enemy 
except  time  and  the  gout,  I  felt  as  if  I  had  been  spirited  into 
some  castle  of  felicity,  and  had  not  come  by  the  royal  mail- 
coach  at  all. 

The  great  spell  of  high  life  in  this  country  seems  to  be  re- 
pose. All  violent  sensations  are  avoided  as  out  of  taste.  In 
conversation,  nothing  is  so  "  odd"  (a  word,  by  the  way,  that 


70  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


in  England  means  everything  disagreeable)  as  emphasis  or 
startling  epithet,  or  gesture,  and  in  common  intercourse  no- 
thing so  vulgar  as  any  approach  to  "  a  scene."  The  high- 
bred Englishman  studies  to  express  himself  in  the  plainest 
words  that  will  convey  his  meaning,  and  is  just  as  simple  and 
calm  in  describing  the  death  of  his  friend,  and  just  as  techni- 
cal, so  to  speak,  as  in  discussing  the  weather.  Eor  all  extra- 
ordinary admiration  the  word  "  capital"  suffices  ;  for  all  ordi- 
nary praise  the  word  "  nice  !"  for  all  condemnation  in  morals, 
manners,  or  religion,  the  word  "  odd  !"  To  express  yourself 
out  of  this  simple  vocabulary  is  to  raise  the  eyebrows  of  the 
whole  company  at  once,  and  stamp  yourself  under-bred,  or  a 
foreigner. 

This  sounds  ridiculous,  but  it  is  the  exponent  not  only  of 
good  breeding,  but  of  the  true  philosophy  of  social  life.  The 
general  happiness  of  a  party  consists  in  giving  every  individual 
an  equal  chance,  and  in  wounding  no  one's  self-love.  "What  is 
called  an  "  overpowering  person,"  is  immediately  shunned,  for 
he  talks  too  much,  and  excites  too  much  attention.  In  any 
other  country  he  would  be  called  "  amusing."  He  is  consid- 
ered here  as  a  mere  monopolizer  of  the  general  interest — 
and  his  laurels,  talk  he  never  so  well,  shadow  the  rest  of 
the  company.  You  meet  your  most  intimate  friend  in  soci- 
ty  after  a  long  separation,  and  he  gives  you  his  hand  as  if 
you  had  parted  at  breakfast.  If  he  had  expressed  all  he 
felt,  it  would  have  been  "  a  scene,"  and  the  repose  of  the 
company  would  have  been  disturbed.  You  invite  a  clever 
man  to  dine  with  you,  and  ho  enriches  his  descriptions  with 
new  epithets  and  original  words.    He  is  offensive.    He  eclipses 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  7] 


the  language  of  your  other  guests,  and  is  out  of  keeping 
with  the  received  and  subdued  tone  to  'Which  the  most  com- 
inon  intellect  rises  with  ease.  Society  on  this  footing  is  de- 
lightful to  all,  and  the  diffident  man,  or  the  dull  man,  or  the 
quiet  man,  enjoys  it  as  much  as  another.  For  violent  sensa- 
tions you  must  go  elsewhere.  Your  escape-valve  is  not  at 
your  neighbor's  ear. 

There  is  a  great  advantage  in  this  in  another  respect.  Your 
tongue  never  gets  you  into  mischief.  The  "  unsafeness  of 
Americans  "  in  society  (T  quote  a  phrase  I  have  heard  used  a 
thousand  times)  arises  wholly  from  the  American  habit  of 
applying  high-WTOught  language  to  trifles.  I  can  tell  one 
of  my  countrymen  abroad  by  his  first  remark.  Ten  to  one 
his  first  sentence  contains  a  superlative  that  would  make  an 
Englishman  imagine  he  had  lost  his  senses.  The  natural  con- 
sequence is  continual  misapprehension,  offence  is  given  where 
none  was  intended,  words  that  have  no  meaning  are  the 
ground  of  quarrel,  and  gentlemen  are  shy  of  us.  A  good- 
natured  young  nobleman,  whom  I  sat  next  to  at  dinner  on 
my  first  arrival  at  Gordon  castle,  told  me  he  was  hunting  with 
Lord  Abercorn  when  tw^o  very  gentleman-like  young  men 
rode  up  and  requested  leave  to  follow  the  hounds,  but  in  such 
extraordinary  language  that  they  were  not  at  first  understood. 
The  hunt  continued  for  some  days,  and  at  last  the  strangers, 
who  rode  w^ell,  and  were  seen  continually,  were  invited  to 
dine  with  the  principal  nobleman  of  the  neighborhood.  They 
turned  out  to  be  Americans,  and  were  every  way  well  bred 
and  agreeable,  but  their  extraordinary  mode  of  expressing 
themselves  kept  the  company  in  continual  astonishment.  They 


72  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


were  treated  with  politeness,  of  course,  while  they  remained, 
but  no  little  fun  was  made  of  their  phraseology  after  their  de- 
parture, and  the  impression  on  the  mind  of  my  informant  was 
very  much  against  the  purity  of  the  English  language,  as 
spoken  by  the  Americans.  I  mention  it  for  the  benefit  of 
those  whom  it  may  concern. 


LETTEE  X 


DErARTURE     FROM     GORDON      CASTLE THE      PRETENDER SCOTCH 

CHARACTER    MISAPPREHENDED — OBSERVANCE  OF  SUNDAY HIGH- 
LAND CHIEFTAINS. 

The  days  had  gone  by  like  the  "  Days  of  Thalaba,"  and  I 
took  my  leave  of  Gordon  castle.  It  seemed  to  me,  as  I 
looked  back  upon  it,  as  if  I  had  passed  a  separate  life  there — 
so  beautiful  had  been  every  object  on  which  I  had  looked  in 
that  time,  and  so  free  from  every  mixture  of  ennui  had  been 
the  hours  from  the  first  to  the  last,  I  have  set  them  apart  in 
my  memory,  those  days,  as  a  bright  ellipse  in  the  usual  pro- 
cession of  joys  and  sorrows.  It  is  a  little  world,  w^alled  in 
from  rudeness  and  vexation,  in  which  I  have  lived  a  life. 

I  took  the  coach  from  Elgin,  and  visited  the  fine  old  ruins 
of  the  cathedral,  and  then  kept  on  to  Inverness,  passmg  over 

4  •  irsj 


74  FAMOUS  PEESONS  AND  PLACES. 

the  "  Blasted  Heath,"  the  tryst  of  Macbeth  and  the  witches. 
"We  passed  within  sight  of  CuUoden  Moor,  at  sunset,  and  the 
driver  pointed  out  to  me  a  lonely  castle  where  the  Pretender 
slept  the  night  before  the  battle.  The  interest  with  which  I 
had  read  the  romantic  history  of  Prince  Charlie,  in  my  boy- 
hood, was  fully  awakened,  for  his  name  is  still  a  watch-word 
pf  aristocracy  in  Scotland;  and  the  Jacobite  songs,  with  their 
half-warlike,  half-melaucholy  music,  were  favorites  of  the 
Dutchess  of  Gordon,  who  sung  them  in  their  original  Scotch, 
with  an  enthusiasm  and  sweetness  that  stirred  my  blood  like 
the  sound  of  a  trumpet.  There  certainly  never  was  a  cause 
so  indebted  to  music  and  poetry  as  that  which  was  lost  at 
Culloden. 

The  hotel  at  Inverness  was  crowded  with  livery  servants, 
and  the  door  inaccessible  for  carriages.  I  had  arrived  on  the 
last  day  of  a  county  meeting,  and  all  the  chieftains  and  lairds 
of  the  north  and  west  of  Scotland  were  together.  The  last 
ball  was  to  be  given  that  evening,  and  I  was  strongly  tempted 
to  go,  by  four  or  five  acquaintances  whom  I  found  in  the  hotel 
— but  the  gout  was  peremptory.  My  shoe  would  not  go  on, 
and  I  went  to  bed. 

I  was  lin)ping  about  in  the  morning  with  a  kind  old  baronet 
whom  I  had  met  at  Gordon  Castle,  when  I  was  wannly  accost- 
ed by  a  gentleman  whom  I  did  not  immediately  remember. 
On  his  reminding  me  that  we  had  parted  last  on  Lake  Lemao, 
however,  I  recollected  a  gentlemanlike  Scotchman,  who  had 
offered  me  his  glass  opposite  Copet  to  look  at  the  house  of 
Madame  de  Stael,  and  whom  I  had  left  afterward  at  Lau- 
sanne,  without  even  knowing  his  name.     He  invited  me  imme- 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  75 


diately  to  dine,  and  in  about  an  hour  or  two  after,  called  in 
his  carriage,  and  drove  me  to  a  charming  country  house,  a  few 
miles  down  the  shore  of  Loch  Ness,  where  he  presented  me 
to  his  family,  and  treated  me  in  every  respect  as  if  I  had  been 
the  oldest  of  liis  friends.  I  mention  the  circumstance  for  the 
sake  of  a  comment  on  what  seems  to  me  a  universal  error  with 
regard  to  the  Scotch  character.  Instead  of  a  calculating  and 
cold  people,  as  they  are  always  described  by  the  English,  they 
seem  to  me  more  a  nation  of  impulse  and  warm  feeling  than 
any  other  I  have  seen.  Their  history  certainly  goes  to  prove 
a  most  chivalrous  character  in  days  gone  by,  and  as  far  as  I 
know  Scotchmen,  they  preserve  it  still  with  even  less  of  the 
modification  of  the  times  than  any  other  nations.  The  instance 
I  have  mentioned  above,  is  one  of  many  that  have  come  under 
my  own  observation,  and  in  many  inquiries  since,  I  have  never 
found  an  Englishman,  ivho  had  been  in  Scotland^  who  did  not 
confirm  my  impression.  I  have  not  traded  with  them,  it  is 
true,  and  I  have  seen  only  the  wealthier  class,  but  still  I  think 
my  judment  a  fair  one.  The  Scotch  in  England  are,  in  a  man- 
ner, what  the  Yankees  are  in  the  Southern  States,  and  their 
advantages  of  superior  quickness  and  education  have  given 
them  a  success  which  is  ascribed  to  meaner  causes.  I  think 
(common  prejudice  contradicente)  that  neither  the  Scotch  nor 
the  English  are  a  cold  or  an  unfriendly  people,  but  the  Scotch 
certainly  the  farther  remove  from  coldness  of  the  two. 

Inverness  is  the  only  place  I  have  ever  been  in  where  no 
medicine  could  be  procured  on  a  Sunday.  I  did  not  want  in- 
deed for  other  mementoes  of  the  sacredness  of  the  day.  In 
the  crowd  of  the  public  room  of  the  hotel,  half  the  persons  at 


76  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


least,  had  either  bible  or  prayer-book,  and  there  was  a  hush 
through  the  house,  and  a  gravity  in  the  faces  of  the  people 
passing  in  the  street,  that  reminded  me  more  of  New  England 
than  anything  I  have  seen.  1  had  wanted  some  linen  washed 
on  Saturday.  *'  Impossible  !"  said  the  waiter,  "  no  one  does 
up  linen  on  Sunday."  Toward  evening  I  wished  for  a  car- 
riage to  drive  over  to  my  hospitable  friend.  Mine  host  stared, 
and  I  found  it  was  indecorous  to  drive  out  on  Sunday.  I  must 
add,  however,  that  the  apothecary's  shop  was  opened  after 
the  second  service,  and  that  I  was  allowed  a  carriage  on  plead- 
ing my  lameness. 

Inverness  is  a  romantic  looking  town,  charmingly  situated 
between  Loch  Ness  and  the  Murray  Firth,  with  the  bright 
river  Ness  running  through  it,  parallel  to  its  principal  street, 
and  the  most  picturesque  eminences  in  its  neighborhood. 
There  is  a  very  singular  elevation  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Ness,  shaped  like  a  ship,  keel  up,  and  rising  from  the  centre 
of  the  plain,  covered  with  beautiful  trees.  It  is  called,  in 
Gaehc,  Tonnaheuric,  or  the  Hill  of  the  Fairies. 

It  has  been  in  one  respect  like  getting  abroad  again,  to  come 
to  Scotland.  Nothing  seemed  more  odd  to  me  on  my  first 
arrival  in  England,  than  having  suddenly  ceased  to  be  a  "  fo- 
reigner." I  was  as  little  at  home  myself,  as  in  France  or 
Turkey,  (much  less  than  in  Italy,)  yet  there  was  that  in  the 
manner  of  every  person  who  approached  me  which  conveyed 
the  presumption  that  I  was  as  familiar  with  every  thing  about 
me  as  himself  In  Scotland,  however,  the  Englishman  is  the 
"  Sassenach,"  and  a  stranger ;  and,  as  I  was  alw^ays  taken 
for  one,  I  found  myself  once  more  invested  with  that  agreea- 


A  TRIP  TO   SCOTLAND.  77 


ble  consequence  which  accompanies  it,  my  supposed  prejudi- 
ces consulted,  my  opinion  about  another  country  asked,  and 
comparisons  referred  to  me  as  an  exparte  judge.  I  found 
here,  as  abroad,  too,  that  the  Englishman  was  expected  to  pay 
more  for  trifling  services  than  a  native,  and  that  he  would  be 
much  more  difficult  about  his  accommodations,  and  more  par- 
ticular in  his  chance  company.  I  was  amused  at  the  hotel 
with  an  instance  of  the  want  of  honor  shown  "  the  prophet  in 
his  own  country."  I  went  down  to  the  coffee  room  for  my 
breakfast  about  noon,  and  found  a  remarkably  fashionable, 
pale,  "  Werter-like  man,"  excessively  dressed,  but  with  all  the 
air  of  a  gentleman,  sitting  with  a  newspaper  on  one  side  of 
the  fire.  He  offered  me  the  newspaper  after  a  few  minutes, 
but  with  the  cold,  half-supercilious  politeness  which  marks  the 
dandy  tribe,  and  strolled  off  to  the  window.  The  landlord 
entered  presently,  and  asked  me  if  I  had  any  objection  to 
breakfasting  with  that  gentleman,  as  it  would  be  a  convenience 
in  serving  it  up.  "  None  in  the  world,"  I  said,  "  but  you  had 
better  ask  the  other  gentleman  first."  "Hoot!"  said  Boni- 
face, throwing  up  his  chin  with  an  incredulous  expression, — 
"  it's  honor  for  the  like  o'  him.  He's  joost  a  laddie  born  and 
brought  up  i'  the  toon.  I  kenn'd  him  weel."  And  so  enter 
breakfast  for  two.  I  found  my  companion  a  well-bred  man ; 
rather  surprised,  however,  if  not  vexed,  to  discover  that  I 
knew  he  was  of  Inverness.  He  had  been  in  the  civil  services 
of  the  East  India  Company  for  some  years  (hence  his  pale- 
ness,) atid  had  returned  to  Scotland  for  his  health.  He  was 
not  the  least  aware  that  he  w^as  known,  apparently  and  he 
certainly  had  not  the  slightest  trace  of  his  Scotch  birth.    The 


jQ  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

landlord  told  me  afterward  that  his  parents  were  poor,  and  he 
had  raised  himself  by  his  own  cleverness  alone,  and  yet  it  was 
"  honor  for  the  like  o'  him"  to  sit  at  table  with  a  common 
stranger !     The  world  is  really  very  much  the  same  all  over. 

In  the  three  days  I  passed  at  Inverness,  I  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  several  of  the  warm-hearted  Highland  chiefs, 
and  found  great  diflBculty  in  refusing  to  go  home  with  them. 
One  of  the  *'  Lords  of  the  Isles  "  was  among  the  number — a 
handsome,  high-spirited  youth,  who  would  have  been  the  chi- 
valrous Lord  Konald  of  a  century  ago,  but  was  now  only  the 
best  shot,  the  best  rider,  the  most  elegant  man,  and  the  most 
"  capital  fellow  "  in  the  west  of  Scotland.  He  had  lost  every 
thing  but  his  "  Isle  "  in  his  London  campaigns,  and  w^as  be- 
ginning to  look  out  for  a  wife  to  mend  his  fortune  and  his  mo- 
rals. There  was  a  peculiar  style  about  all  these  young  men, 
something  very  like  the  manner  of  our  high  bred  Virginians — 
a  free,  gallant,  self-possessed  bearing,  fiery  and  prompt,  yet 
full  of  courtesy.     I  was  pleased  wdth  them  altogether. 

I  had  formed  an  agreeable  acquaintance,  on  my  passage 
from  London  to  Edinburgh  in  the  steamer,  with  a  gentleman 
bound  to  the  Highlands  for  the  shooting  season.  He  was  en- 
gaged to  pay  a  visit  to  Lord  Lumley,  with  whom  I  had  my- 
self promised  to  pass  a  week,  and  we  parted  at  Edinboro'  in 
the  hope  of  meeting  at  Kinrara.  On  my  return  from  Dalhou- 
sie,  a  fortnight  after,  w^e  met  by  chance  at  the  hotel  iij  Edin- 
boro', he  having  arrived  the  same  day,  and  having  taken  a 
passage  like  myself  for  Aberdeen.  We  made  another  agree- 
able passage  together,  and  he  left  me  at  the  gate  of  Gordon 
castle,  proceeding  north  on  another  visit.     I  was  sitting  in  the 


A  TRIP  TO   SCOTLAND.  79 


coffee  room  at  InvernesB,  pondering  how  I  should  reach  Kin- 
rara,  when,  enter  again  my  friend,  to  my  great  surprise,  who 
informed  me  that  Lord  Lumley  had  returned  to  England. 
Disappointed  alike  in  our  visit,  we  took  a  passage  together 
once  more  in  the  steamer  from  Inverness  to  Fort  William  for 
the  following  morning.  It  was  a  singular  train  of  coinciden- 
ces, but  I  was  indebted  to  it  for  one  of  the  most  agreeable 
chance  acquaintances  I  have  yet  made. 


LETTER  XI. 


CALEDONIAN    CANAL DOGS ENGLISH    EXCLUSIVENESS ENGLISH 

INSENSIBILITY    OF    FINE    SCENERY FLORA  MACDONALD  AND  THE 

PRETENDER — HIGHLAND  TRAVELLING. 

We  embarked  early  in  the  morning  in  the  steamer  which 
goes  across  Scotland  from  sea  to  sea,  by  the  half-natural,  half- 
artificial  passage  of  the  Caledonian  canal.  One  long  glen,  as 
the  reader  knows,  extends  quite  through  this  mountainous 
country,  and  in  its  bosom  lies  a  chain  of  the  loveliest  lakes, 
whose  extremities  so  nearly  meet,  that  it  seems  as  if  a  blow 
of  a  spade  should  have  run  them  together.  Their  different 
elevations,  however,  made  it  an  expensive  work  in  the  locks, 
and  the  canal  altogether  cost  ten  times  the  original  calcu- 
lation. 

[80] 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  Ql 


I  went  on  board  with  my  London  friend,  who,  from  our 
meeting  so  frequently,  had  now  become  my  constant  com- 
panion. The  boat  was  crowded,  yet  more  with  dogs  than 
people ;  for  every  man,  I  think,  had  his  brace  of  terriers  or  his 
pointers,  an4  every  lady  her  honnd  or  poodle,  and  they  were 
chained  to  every  leg  of  a  sofa,  chair,  portmanteau,  and  fixture 
in  the  vessel.  It  was  like  a  floating  kennel,  and  every  pas- 
senger was  fully  occupied  in  keeping  the  peace  between  his 
own  dog  and  his  neighbor's.  The  same  thing  would  have 
been  a  much  greater  annoyance  in  any  other  country ;  but  in 
Scotland  the  dogs  are  all  of  beautiful  and  thorough-bred  races, 
and  it  is  a'pleasure  to  see  them.  Half  as  many  French  pugs 
would  have  been  insufferable. 

"VYe  opened  into  Loch  Ness  immediately,  and  the  scenery 
was  superb.  The  waters  were  like  a  mirror ;  and  the  hills 
draped  in  mist,  and  rising  one  or  two  thdusand  feet  directly 
from  the  shore,  and  nothing  to  break  the  wildness  of  the  crags 
but  the  ruins  of  the  constantly  occurring  castles,  perched  like 
eyries  upon  their  summits.  You  might  have  had  the  same 
natural  scenery  in  America,  but  the  ruins  and  the  thousand 
associations  would  have  been  wanting ;  and  it  is  this,  much 
more  than  the  mere  beauty  of  hill  and  lake,  which  makes  the 
pleasure  of  travel.  We  ran  close  in  to  a  green  cleft  in  the 
mountains  on  the  southern  shore,  in  which  stands  one  of  the 
few  old  castles,  still  inhabited  by  the  chief  of  his  clan — 
that  of  Fraser  of  Lovat,  so  well  known  in  Scottish  story.  Our 
object  was  to  vibit  the  Fall  of  Foyers,  in  sight  of  which  it 
stands,  and  the  boat  came  off  to  the  point,   and   gave    us  an 

hour  for  the  excursion.     It  was  a  pretty  stroll  up  through  the 

4* 


82 


FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


woods,  aDd  we  found  a  cascade  very  like  the  Turtmann  in 
Switzerland,  but  with  no  remarkable  feature  which  would 
make  it  interesting  in  description. 

I  was  amused  after  breakfast  with  what  has  always  struck 
me  on  board  English  steamers — the  gradual  di^sion  of  the 
company  into  parties  of  congenial  rank  or  consequence.  Not 
for  conversation — for  fellow  travellers  of  a  day  seldom  be- 
come acquainted — but,  as  if  it  was  a  process  of  crystallization, 
the  well-bred  and  the  half-bred,  and  the  vulgar,  each  separat- 
ing to  his  natural  neighbor,  apparently  from  a  mere  fitness  of 
propinquity.  This  takes  place  sometimes,  but  rarely  and  in 
a  much  less  degree,  on  board  an  American  steamer.  There 
are,  of  course,  in  England,  as  with  us,  those  who  are  presu- 
ming and  impertinent,  but  an  instance  of  it  has  seldom  fallen 
under  my  observation.  The  English  seem  to  have  an  instinct 
of  each  other's  position  in  life.  A  gentleman  enters  a  crowd, 
looks  about  him,  makes  up  his  mind  at  once  from  whom  an 
advance  of  civility  would  be  agreeable  or  the  contrary,  gets 
near  the  best  set  without  seeming  to  notice  them,  and  if  any 
chance  accident  brings  on  conversation  with  his  neighbor,  you 
may  be  certain  he  is  sure  of  his  man. 

We  had  about  a  hundred  persons  on  board,  (Miss  Invera- 
rity,  the  singer,  among  others,)  and  I  could  see  no  one  who 
seemed  to  notice  or  enjoy  the  lovely  scenery  we  were  passing 
through.  I  made  the  remark  to  my  companion,  who  was  an 
old  stager  in  London  fashion,  fifty,  but  still  a  beau,  and  he 
was  compelled  to  allow  it,  though  piqued  for  the  taste  of  his 
countrymen.  A  baronet  with  his  wife  and  sister  sat  in  the 
corner  opposite  us,  and  neither  saw  a  feature  of  the  scenery 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  g8 


except  by  au  accidental  glance  in  changing  her  position.  Yet 
it  was  more  beautiful  than  most  things  I  have  seen  that  aro 
celebrated,  and  the  ladies,  as  my  friend  said,  looked  like  "  nice 
persons." 

I  had  taken  up  a  book  while  we  were  passing  the  locks  at 
the  junction  of  Loch  Ness  and  Loch  Oich,  and  was  reading 
aloud  to  my  friend  the  interesting  description  of  Flora  Mac- 
donald's  heroic  devotion  to  Prince  Charles  Edward.  A  very 
lady-like  girl,  who  sat  next  me,  turned  around  as  I  laid  down 
the  book,  and  informed  me,  with  a  look  of  pleased  pride,  that 
the  heroine  was  her  grandmother.  She  was  returning  from 
the  first  visit  she  had  ever  made  to  the  Isle  (I  think  of  Skye,) 
of  which  the  Macdonalds  were  the  hereditary  lords,  and  in 
which  the  fugitive  prince  was  concealed.  Her  brother,  an 
oflQcer,  just  returned  from  India,  had  accompanied  her  in  her 
pilgrimage,  and  as  he  sat  on  the  other  side  of  his  sister  he 
joined  in  the  conversation,  and  entered  into  the  details  of 
Flora's  history  with  great  enthusiasm.  The  book  belonged  to 
the  boat,  and  my  friend  had  brought  it  from  below,  and  the 
coincidence  was  certainly  singular.  The  present  chief  of  the 
Macdonalds  was  on  board,  accompanying  his  relatives  back 
to  their  home  in  Sussex ;  and  on  arriving  at  Fort  "William, 
where  the  boat  stopped  for  the  night,  the  young  lady  invited 
us  to  take  tea  with  her  at  the  inn  ;  and  for  so  improvised  an 
acquaintance,  I  have  rarely  made  three  friends  more  to  my 
taste. 

We  had  decided  to  leave  the  steamer  at  Fort  "William,  and 
cross  through  the  heart  of  Scotland  to  Loch  Lomond.  My 
companion  was  very  fond  of  London  hours,  and  slept  late, 


54  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

knowing  that  the  cart — the  only  conveyance  to  be  had  in  that 
country — would  wait  our  time.  I  was  lounging  about  the 
jnn,  and  amusing  myself  with  listening  to  the  Gaelic  spoken 
by  everybody  who  belonged  to  the  place,  when  the  pleasant 
family  with  whom  we  had  passed  the  evening,  drove  out  of  the 
yard,  (having  brought  their  horses  down  in  the  boat,)  intend- 
ing to  proceed  by  land  to  Glasgow.  We  renewed  our  adieus, 
on  my  part  with  the  sincerest  regret,  and  I  strolled  down  the 
road  and  watched  them  till  they  were  out  X)f  sight,  feeling  that 
(selfish  world  as  it  is,)  there  are  some  things  that  look  at  least 
like  impulse  and  kindness — so  like,  that  I  can  make  out  of 
them  a  very  passable  happiness. 

"Wo  mounted  our  cart  at  eleven  o'clock,  and  with  a  bright 
Bun,  a  clear,  vital  air,  a  handsome  and  good-humored  callant 
for  a  driver,  and  the  most  renowned  of  Scottish  scenery  before 
us,  the  day  looked  very  auspicious.  I  could  not  help  smiling 
at  the  appearance  of  my  fashionable  friend  sitting,  with  his 
well-poised  hat  and  nicely-adjusted  curls,  upon  the  springless 
cross-board  of  a  most  undisguised  and  unscrupulous  market- 
cart,  yet  in  the  highest  good  humor  with  himself  and  the 
world.  The  boy  sat  on  the  shafts,  and  talked  Gaelic  to  his 
horse;  the  mountains  and  the  lake,  spread  out  before  us, 
looked  as  if  human  eye  had  never  profaned  their  solitary 
beauty,  and  I  enjoyed  it  all  the  more,  perhaps,  that  our  con- 
versation was  of  London  and  its  delights;  and  the  racy  scan- 
dal of  the  distinguished  people  of  that  great  Babel  amused 
mo  in  the  midst  of  that  which  is  most  unlike  it — pure  and  love- 
ly nature.     Everything  is  seen  so  mucli  better  by  contrast ! 

We  crossed  the  head  of  Loch  Linnhe,  and  kept  down  its 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  95 


eastern  bank,  skirting  the  water  by  a  wilding  road  directly 
under  the  wall  of  the  mountains.  We  were  to  dine  at  Bally* 
hulishj  and  just  before  reaching  it  we  passed  the  opening  of  a 
glen  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  lake,  in  which  lay,  in  a  green 
paradise  shut  in  by  the  loftiest  rocks,  one  of  the  most  enviable 
habitations  I  have  ever  seen.  I  found  on  inquiry  that  it  was 
the  house  of  a  Highland  chief,  to  whom  Lord  Dalhousie  had 
kindly  given  me  a  letter,  but  my  lameness  and  the  presence  of 
my  companion  induced  me  to  abandon  the  visit ;  and,  hailing 
a  fishing-boat,  I  dispatched  my  letters,  which  were  sealed, 
across  the  loch,  and  we  kept  on  to  the  inn.  We  dined  here; 
and  I  just  mention,  for  the  information  of  scenery-hunters, 
that  the  mountain  opposite  Ballyhulish  sweeps  down  to  the 
lake  with  a  curve  which  is  even  more  exquisitely  graceful  than 
that  of  Vesuvius  in  its  far-famed  descent  to  Portici.  That 
same  inn  of  Ballyhulish,  by  the  way,  stands  in  the  midst  of  a 
scene,  altogether,  that  does  not  pass  easily  from  the  memory — 
a  lonely  and  serene  spot  that  would  recur  to  one  in  a  moment 
of  violent  love  or  hate,  when  the  heart  shrinks  from  the  inter- 
course and  observation  of  men. 

We  found  the  travellers'  book,  at  the  inn,  full  of  records 
of  admiration,  expressed  in  all  degrees  of  doggerel.  People 
on  the  road  write  very  bad  poetry.  I  found  the  names  of  one 
or  two  Americans,  whom  I  knew,  and  it  w^as  a  pleasure  to 
feel  that  my  enjoyment  would  be  sympathized  in.  Our  host 
had  been  a  nobleman's  travelling  valet,  and  he  amused  us  with 
his  descriptions  of  our  friends,  every  one  of  whom  he  perfect- 
ly remembered.  He  had  learned  to  use  his  eyes,  at  least,  and 
had  made  very  shrewd  guesses  at  the  condition  and  tempers 


86  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


of  his  visiters.     His  life,  in  th^  lonely  inn,  must  be  in  suffi- 
cient contrast  with  his  former  vocation. 

We  had  jolted  sixteen  miles  behind  our  Highland  horse, 
but  he  came  out  fresh  for  the  remaining  twenty  of  our  day's 
journey,  and  with  cushions  of  dried  and  fragrant  fern,  gather- 
ed and  put  in  by  our  considerate  landlord,  we  crossed  the 
ferry  and  turned  eastward  into  the  far-famed  and  mucn 
boasted  valley  of  Glencoe.  The  description  of  it  must  lie  over 
till  my  next  letter. 


LETTER  X  II 


INVARERDEN TARBOT COCKNEY     TOURISTS LOCH    LOMOND IN- 

VER8NADE ROB  ROY's  CAVE DISCOMFITURE THE  BIRTHPLACE 

OF    HELEN    m'grEGOR. 

"W"e  passed  the  head  of  the  valley  near  Tyndrum,  where 
M'Dougal  of  Lorn  defeated  the  Bruce,  and  were  half  way  up 
the  wild  pass  that  makes  its  southern  outlet,  when  our  High- 
land driver,  with  a  shout  of  delight,  pointed  out  to  us  a  red 
deer,  standing  on  the  very  summit  of  the  highest  mountain 
above  us.  It  was  an  incredible  distance  to  see  any  living 
thing,  but  he  stood  clear  against  the  sky,  in  a  relief  as  strong 
as  if  he  had  been  suspended  in  the  air,  and  with  his  head  up, 
and  his  chest  toward  us,  seemed  the  true  monarch  of  the  wild. 

At  Invarenden,   Donald  M'Phee  begged  for  the  discharge 

[87] 


\ 


88  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


of  himself  and  his  horse  and  cart  from  our  service.  He  had 
come  with  us  eighty  miles,  and  was  afraid  to  venture  farther 
on  his  travels,  haviug  never  before  been  twenty  miles  from 
.the  Highland  village  where  he  lived.  It  was  amusing  to  see 
the  curiosity  with  which  he  looked  about  him,  and  the  caution 
with  which  he  suffered  the  hostler  at  the  inn  to  take  the  black 
mare  out  of  his  sight.  The  responsibility  of  the  horse  and 
cart  weighed  heavily  on  his  mind,  and  he  expressed  his  hope 
to  "  get  her  back  safe,"  with  an  apprehensive  resolution  that 
would  have  become  a  knight-errant  guiding  himself  for  his 
most  perilous  encounter.  Poor  Donald  !  how  little  he  knew 
how  wide  is  the  world,  and  how  very  like  one  part  of  it  is  to 
another !  . 

Our  host  of  Invarerden  supplied  us  with  another  cart  to 
take  us  down  to  Tarbot,  and  having  dined  with  a  waterfall- 
looking  inn  at  each  of  our  two  opposite  windows,  (the  inn 
stands  in  a  valley  between  two  mountains,)  we  were  com- 
mitted to  the  care  of  his  eldest  boy,  and  jolted  off  for  the  head 
of  Loch  Lomond. 

I  have  never  happened  to  see  a  traveller  who  had  seen  Loch 
Lomond  in  perfectly  good  weather.  My  companion  had  been 
there  every  summer  for  several  years,  and  believed  it  always 
rained  under  Ben  Lomond.  As  we  came  in  sight  of  the  lake, 
however,  the  water  looked  like  one  sheet  of  gold  leaf,  trem- 
bling, as  if  by  the  motion  of  fish  below,  but  unruffled  by  wind  ; 
and  if  paradise  were  made  so  fair,  and  had  such  waters  in  its 
midst,  I  could  better  conceive  than  before,  the  unhappiness 
of  Adam  when  driven  forth,  The  sun  was  just  setting,  and 
♦u,»  „^v  '  ^Ipsfcndcd  immediately  to  the  shore,  and  kent  -i^"^ 


/ 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  /  gO 


under  precipitous  rocks,  and  slopes  of  alternate  cultivation 
and  heather,  to  the  place  of  our  destination.  And  a  lovely 
place  it  is  !  Send  me  to  Tarbot  when  I  would  retreat  from 
the  world.  It  is  an  inn  buried  in  a  grove  at  the  foot  of  the 
hills,  and  set  in  a  bend  of  the  lake  shore,  like  a  diamond  upon 
an  "  orbed  brow ;"  and  the  light  in  its  kitchen,  as  we  ap- 
proached in  the  twilight,  was  as  interesting  as  a  ray  of  the 
"  first  water "  from  the  same.  We  had  now  reached  the 
route  of  the  cockney  tourists,  and  while  we  perceived  it  agree- 
ably in  the  excellence  of  the  hotel,  we  perceived  it  disagreea- 
bly in  the  price  of  the  wines,  and  the  presence  of  what  my 
friend  called  *'  unmitigated  vulgarisms  "  in  the  coffee  room. 
That  is  the  worst  of  England.  The  people  are  vulgar,  but 
not  vulgar  enough.  One  dances  with  the  lazzaroni  at  Naples, 
when  he  would  scarce  think  of  handing  the  newspaper  to  the 
"  person  "  on  a  tour  at  Tarbot.  Condescension  is  the  only 
agreeable  virtue,  I  have  made  up  my  mind. 

Well — it  was  moonlight.  The  wind  was  south  and  affec- 
tionate, and  the  road  in  front  of  the  hotel  "  fleck'd  with  silver," 
and  my  friend's  wife,  and  the  corresponding  object  of  interest 
to  myself,  being  on  the  other  side  of  Ben  Lomond  and  the 
Tweed,  we  had  nothing  for  it  after  supper  but  to  walk  up 
and  down  with  one  another,  and  talk  of  the  past.  In  the 
course  of  our  ramble,  we  walked  through  an  open  gate,  and 
ascending  a  gravel  walk,  found  a  beautiful  cottage,  built  be- 
tween two  mountain  streams,  and  ornamented  with  every  de- 
vice of  taste  and  contrivance.  The  mild  pure  torrents  were 
led  over  falls,  and  brought  to  the  thresholds  of  bowers ;  and 
seats,  and  bridges,  and  winding  paths,  were  distributed  up  the 


90  ^  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACE§. 

steep  channels,  in  a  way  that  might  make  it  a  haunt  for  Tita- 
nia.  It  is  the  property,  we  found  afterward,  of  a  Scotch 
gentleman,  and  a  great  summer  retreat  of  the  celebrated  Jef- 
frey, his  friend.  It  was  one  more  place  to  which  my  heart 
clung  in  parting. 

Loch  Lomond  sat  still  for  its  picture  in  the  morning,  and 
after  an  early  breakfast,  we  took  a  row-boat,  with  a  couple  of 
Highlanders,  for  Inversnade,  and  pulled  across  the  lake  with 
a  kind  of  drowsy  delightfulness  in  the  scene  and  air  which  I 
have  never  before  found  out  of  Italy.  We  overshot  our  des- 
tination a  little  to  look  into  Eob  Eoy's  Cave,  a  dark  den  in  the 
face  of  the  rock,  which  has  the  look  of  his  vocation ;  and  then 
pulling  back  along  the  shore,  w^e  were  landed,  in  the  spray 
of  a  waterfall,  at  a  cottage  occupied  by  the  boatmen  of  this 
Highland  ferry.  From  this  point  across  to  Loch  Katrine,  is 
some  five  miles,  and  the  scene  of  Scott's  novel  of  Rob  Eoy. 
It  has  b^n  *'  done  "  so  often  by  tourists,  that  I  leave  all  par- 
ticular description  of  the  localities  and  scenery  to  the  well- 
hammered  remembrance  of  readers  of  magazines,  and  confine 
myself  to  my  own  private  adventures. 

The  distance  between  the  lakes  is  usually  performed  by 
ladies  on  donkeys,  and  by  gentlemen  on  foot,  but  being  my- 
self rather  tender-toed  with  the  gout,  my  companion  started 
oflf  alone,  and  I  lay  down  on  the  grass  at  Inversnade  to  wait 
the  return  of  the  long-eared  troop,  who  were  gone  across  with 
an  earlier  party.  The  waterfall  and  the  cottage  just  above  the 
edge  of  the  lake,  u  sharp  hill  behind,  closely  wooded  with 
birch  and  fir,  and,  on  a  green  sward  platform  in  the  rear  of 
the  house,  two  Highland  lasses  and  a  laddie,  treading  down  a 


A  TRIP  to  SCOTLAND.  g^ 

stack  of  now  hay,  were  not  bad  circumstances  in  which  to  be 
left  alone  with  the  witcheries  of  the  great  enchanter. 

I  must  narrate  here  an  adventure  in  which  my  own  part 
was  rather  a  discomfiture,  but  which  will  show  somewhat  the 
manners  of  the  people.  My  companion  had  been  gone  half 
an  hour,  and  I  was  lying  at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  listening  to  the 
waterfall  and  looking  off  on  the  lake,  and  watching,  by  fits, 
the  lad  and  lasses  I  have  spoken  of,  who  were  building  a  hay- 
stack between  them,  and  chattering  away  most  unceasingly 
in  Gaelick.  The  eldest  of  the  girls  was  a  tall,  ill-favored  dam- 
sel, merry  as  an  Oread,  but  as  ugly  as  Donald  Bean ;  and, 
after  a  while,  I  began  to  suspect,  by  the  looks  of  the  boy 
below,  that  I  had  furnished  her  with  a  new  theme.  She  ad- 
dressed some  remark  to  me  presently,  and  a  skirmish  of  banter 
ensued,  which  ended  in  a  challenge  to  me  to  climb  upon  the 
stack.  It  was  about  ten  feet  high,  and  shelving  outward  from 
the  bottom,  and  my  Armida  had  drawn  up  the  ladder.  The 
stack  was  built,  however,  under  a  high  tree,  and  I  was  soon 
up  the  trunk,  and,  swinging  off  from  a  long  branch,  dropped 
into  the  middle  of  the  stack.  In  the  sarne  instant  I  was  raised 
in  a  grasp  to  which  I  could  offer  no  resistance,  and,  with  a 
fling  to  which  I  should  have  believed  the  strength  of  few 
men  equal,  thrown  clear  of  the  stack  to  the  ground.  I 
alighted  on  my  back,  with  a  fall  of,  perhaps,  twelve  feet,  and 
felt  seriously  hurt.  The  next  moment,  however,  my  gentle 
friend  had  me  in  her  arms  (I  am  six  feet  high  in  my  stockings) 
and  I  was  carried  into  the  cottage,  and  laid  on  a  flock  bed, 
before  I  could  well  decide  whether  my  back  was  broken  or 
no.     Whiskey  was  applied  externally  and  internally,  and  the 


92  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

old  crone,  who  was  the  only  inhabitant  of  the  hovel,  com- 
menced a  lecture  in  Gaelick,  as  I  stood  once  more  sound  upon 
my  legs,  which  seemed  to  take  effect  upon  the  penitent, 
though  her  victim  was  no  wiser  for  it.  I  took  the  opportunity 
to  look  at  the  frame  which  had  proved  itself  of  such  vigorous 
power;  but,  except  arms  of  extraordinary  length,  she  was  like 
any  other  equally  ugly,  middle-sized  w'oman.  In  the  remain- 
ing half  hour,  before  the  donkeys  arrived,  we  became  the  best 
of  friends,  and  she  set  me  off  for  Loch  Katrine,  with  a  caution 
to  the  ass-driver  to  take  care  of  me,  which  that  sandy-haired 
Highlander  took  as  an  excellent  joke.     And  no  wonder ! 

The  long  mountain  glen  between  these  two  lakes  was  the 
home  of  Rob  Roy,  and  the  Highlanders  point  out  various 
localities,  all  commemorated  in  Scott's  incomparable  story. 
The  house  where  Helen  M'Gregor  was  born  lies  a  stone's 
throw  off  the  road  to  the  left,  and  Rob  Roy's  gun  is  shown  by 
an  old  woman  who  lives  near  by.  He  must  have  been  rich 
in  arms  by  the  same  token ;  for,  beside  the  well-authenticated 
one  at  Abbotsford,  I  have  seen  some  dozen  guns,  and  twice 
as  many  daggers  and  shot-pouches,  which  lay  claim  to  the 
same  honor.  I  paid  my  shilling  to  the  old  woman  not  the 
less.  She  owed  it  to  the  pleasure  1  had  received  from  Sir 
Walter's  novel. 

The  view  of  Loch  Lomond  back  from  the  highest  point  of 
the  pass  is  incomparably  fine ;  at  ^east,  when  I  saw  it ;  for 
sunshine  and  temperature,  and  the  effect  of  the  light  vapors 
on  the  hills,  were  at  their  loveliest  and  most  favorable.  It 
looks  more  like  the  haunt  of  a  robber  and  his  caterans,  proba- 
bly, in  its  more  common  garb  of  Scotch  mist ;  but,  to  my  eye, 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  93 


it  was  a  scene  of  the  most  Arcadian  peace  and  serenity.  I 
dawdled  along  the  five  miles  upon  my  donkey,  with  something 
of  an  ache  in  my  back,  but  a  very  healthful  and  sunny  free- 
dom from  pain  and  impatience  at  my  heart.  And  so  did  not 
Baillie  Nicol  Jarvey  make  the  same  memorable  journey. 


LETTEE  XITI. 


HIGHLAND    HUT,    ITS    FURNITURE  AND  INMATES HIGHLAND    AMUSE- 
MENT AND  DINNER "  ROB  ROY,"  AND  SCENERY   OF    THE    "  LADY 

OF  THE  LAKE." 


The  cottage-inn  at  the  head  of  Loch  Katrine,  was  tenanted 
by  a  woman  who  might  have  been  a  horse-guardsman  in  petti- 
coats, and  who  kept  her  smiles  for  other  cattle  than  the  Sas- 
senach. We  bought  her  whiskey  and  milk,  praised  her  butter, 
and  were  civil  to  the  little  Highlan(iman  at  her  breast ;  but 
neither  mother  nor  child  were  to  be  mollified.  The  rocks 
were  bare  around,  we  were  too  tired  for  a  pull  in  the  boat, 
and  three  mortal  hours  lay  between  us  and  the  nearest  event 
in  our  history.  I  first  penetrated,  in  the  absence  of  our  He- 
cate, to  the  inner  room  of  the  bhieiing.     On   the  wall  hung  a 

broadsword,  two  guns,  a  trophy  or  two  of  deers'  horns,  and  a 

r94j 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  95 


Sunday  suit  of  plaid,  philibeg  and  short  red  coat,  surmounted 
by  a  gallant  bonnet  and  feather.  Four  cribs,  like  the  berths 
Tn  a  ship,  occupied  the  farther  side  of  the  chamber,  each  large 
enough  to  contain  two  persons ;  a  snow-white  table  stood  be- 
tween the  windows ;  a  sixpenny  glass,  with  an  eagle's  feather 
stuck  in  the  frame,  hung  at  such  a  height  that,  "  though  tall 
of  my  hands,"  I  could  just  see  my  nose ;  and  just  under  the 
ceiling  on  the  left  was  a  broad  and  capacious  shelf,  on  which 
reposed  apparently  the  old  clothes  of  a  century — a  sort  of 
place  where  the  gude-wife  would  have  hidden  Prince  Charlie, 
or  might  rummage  for  her  grandmother's  baby-linen. 

The  heavy  steps  of  tlie  dame  came  over  the  threshold,  and 
I  began  to  doubt,  from  the  look  in  her  eyes,  whether  I  should 
get  a  blow  of  her  hairy  arm  or  a  "  persuader  "  from  the  butt 
of  a  gun  for  my  intrusion.  "  What  are  ye  wantin'  here  ?"  she 
S2:>eered  at  me,  with  a  Helen  M'Gregor-to-Baillie-Nicol-Jarvie- 
sort  of  an  expression. 

"  I  w^as  looking  for  a  potato  to  roast,  my  good  woman." 

'•  Is  that  a'  ?  Ye'll  find  it  ayont,  then  !"  and  pointing  to  a 
bag  in  the  corner,  she  stood  while  I  subtracted  the  largest, 
and  then  followed  me  to  the  general  kitchen  and  receiving- 
room,  where  I  buried  my  improvistd  dinner  in  the  remains  of 
the  peat  fire,  and  congratulated  myself  on  my  ready  apology. 

What  to  do  while  the  potato  was  roasting  !  My  English 
friend  had  already  cleaned  his  gun  for  amusement,  and  I  had 
looked  on.  We  had  stoned  the  pony  till  he  had  got  beyond 
us  in  the  morass,  (small  thanks  to  us,  if  the  dame  knew  it.) 
We  had  tried  to  make  a  chicken  swim  ashore  from  the  boat, 
we  had  fired  away  all  my  friend's  percussion  caps,  and  there 


96  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

was  nothing  for  it  but  to  converse  a  rigueur.  We  lay  on  our 
backs  till  the  dame  brought  us  the  hot  potato  on  a  shovel, 
with  oat-cake  and  butter,  and,  with  this  Highland  dinner,  the 
last  hour  came  decently  to  its  death. 

An  Englishman,  with  his  wife  and  lady's  maid,  came  over 
the  hills  with  a  boat's  crew ;  and  a  lassie,  who  was  not  very 
pretty,  but  who  lived  on  the  lake  and  had  found  the  means  to 
get  "  Captain  Eob"  and  his  men  pretty  well  under  her  thumb. 
We  were  all  embarked,  the  lassie  in  the  stern-sheets  with  tho 
captain ;  and  ourselves,  though  we  "  paid  the  Scot,"  of  no 
more  consideration  than  our  portmanteaus.  I  -was  amused, 
for  it  was  the  first  instance  I  had  seen  in  any  country  (my  own 
not  excepted)  of  thorough  emancipation  from  the  distinction 
of  superiors.  Luckily  the  girl  was  bent  on  showing  the  cap- 
tain to  advantage,  and  by  ingenious  prompting  and  catechism 
she  induced  him  to  do  what  probably  was  his  custom  when  he 
could  not  better  amuse  himself — point  out  the  localities  as  the 
boat  sped  on,  and  quote  the  Lady  of  the  Lake  with  an  accent 
which  made  it  a  piece  of  good  fortune  to  have  "  crammed  " 
the  poem  before  hand. 

The  shores  of  the  lake  are  flat  and  uninteresting  at  the 
head,  but,  toward  the  scene  of  Scott's  romance,  they  rise  into 
bold  precipices,  and  gradually  become  worthy  of  their  celeb- 
rity. The  Trosachs  are  a  cluster  of  small,  green  mountains, 
strewn,  or  rather  piled,  with  shrubs  and  mossy  verdure,  and 
from  a  distance  you  would  think  only  a  bird,  or  Ranald  of  the 
Mist,  could  penetrate  their  labyrinthine  recesses.  Captain 
Kob  showed  us  successively  the  Braes  of  Balquidder,  Rob 
Roy's  birth  and  burial  place,  Bsnlodi,  and  th«  crag  from 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  g^ 


which  hung,  by  the  well  woven  skirts  of  braidcloth,  the  wor- 
thy baillie  of  Glasgow  ;  and,  beneath  a  precipice  of  remarka- 
ble wildness,  the  half  intoxicated  steersman  raised  his  arm, 
and  began  to  repeat,  in  the  most  unmitigated  gutterals  : — 

"  High  o'er  the  south  huge  Benvenue 
Down  to  the  lake  his  masses  threw, 
Crags,  knowls,  and  mounds  confusedly  hurl'd 
The  irsLg^ments  of  an  earlier  wurruld  /"  etc. 

I  have  underlined  it  according  to  the  captain's  judicious 
emphasis,  and  in  the  last  word  have  endeavored  to  spell  after 
his  remarkable  pronunciation.  Probably  to  a  Frenchman, 
however,  it  would  have  seemed  all  very  fine — for  Captain  Rob 
(I  must  do  him  justice,  though  he  broke  the  strap  of  my  port- 
manteau) was  as  good-looking  a  ruflSan  as  you  would  sketch  on 
a  summer's  tour. 

Some  of  the  loveliest  water  I  have  ever  seen  in  my  life  (and 
I  am  rather  an  amateur  of  that  element — to  look  at,)  hes  deep 
down  at  the  bases  of  these  divine  Trosachs.  The  usual  ap- 
proaches from  lake  to  mountain  (beach  or  sloping  shore,)  are 
here  dispensed  with  ;  and,  straight  up  from  the  deep  water, 
rise  the  green  precipices  and  bold  and  ragged  rocks,  over- 
shadowing the  glassy  mirror  below  with  teints  like  a  cool  cor- 
ner in  a  landscape  of  Euysdael's.  It  is  something — (indeed 
on  a  second  thought,  exceedingly)  like — Lake  George  ;  only 
that  the  islands  in  this  extremity  of  Loch  Katrine  lie  closer 
together,  and  permit  the  sun  no  entrance  except  by  a  ray 
almost  perpendicular.  A  painter  will  easily  understand  tho 
eJBfect  of  this— the  loss  of  all  that  makes  a  surface  to  the  w»t«r, 

6 


98  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


and  the  consequent  far  depth  to  the  eye,  as  if  the  boat  in 
which  you  shot  over  it  brought  with  it  its  own  water  and  sent 
its  ripple  through  the  transparent  air.  I  write  currente  calamOy 
and  have  no  time  to  clear  up  my  meaning,  but  it  will  be  evi- 
dent to  all  lovers  of  nature. 

Captain  Rob  put  up  his  helm  for  a  little  fairy  green  island, 
lying  like  a  lapfull  of  green  moss  on  the  water,  and,  rounding 
a  point,  we  ran  suddenly  into  a  cove  sheltered  by  a  tree,  and 
in  a  moment  the  boat  grated  on  the  pebbles  of  a  natural  beach 
perhaps  ten  feet  in  length.  A  flight  of  winding  steps,  made 
roughly  of  roots  and  stones,  ascended  from  the  water's  edge. 

"  Gentlemen  and  ladies!"  said  the  captain,  with  a  hiccup, 
"  this  is  Ellen's  Isle.     This  is  the  gnarled  oak,"  (catching  at  a 

branch  of  the  tree  as  the  boat  swung  astern,)  and you'll 

please  to  go  up  them  steps,  and  I'll  tell  ye  the  rest  in  Ellen's 
bower." 

The  Highland  lassie  sprang  on  shore,  and  we  followed  up 
the  steep  ascent,  arriving  breathless  at  last  at  the  door  of  a 
fanciful  bower,  built  by  Lord  Willoughby  d'Eresby,  the  owner 
of  the  island,  exactly  after  the  description  in  the  Lady  of  the 
Lake.  The  chairs  were  made  of  crooked  branches  of  trees 
and  covered  with  deerskins,  the  tables  were  laden  with  armor 
and  every  variety  of  weapon,  and  the  rough  beams  of  the 
building  were  hung  with  antlers  and  other  spoils  of  the  chase. 

"  Here's  where  she  lived  1"  said  the  captain,  with  the  grav- 
ity of  a  cicerone  at  the  Forum,  "  and  noo^  if  ye'll  come  out, 
I'll  show  you  the  echo  !" 

We  followed  to  the  highest  point  of  the  island,  and  the 
Highlandman  gave  a  scream  that  showed  considerable  prac- 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND. 


m 


tice,  but  I  thought  he  would  have  burst  his  throat  in  the 
effort.  The  awful  echo  went  round,  "  as  mentioned  in  the 
bill  of  performance,"  every  separate  mountain  screaming  back 
the  discord  till  you  would  have  thought  the  Trosachs  a  crew 
of  mocking  giants.  It  was  a  wonderful  echo,  but,  like  most 
wonders,  I  could  have  been  content  to  have  had  less  for  my 
money. 

There  was  a  "  small  silver  beach"  on  the  mainland  opposite, 
and  above  it  a  high  mass  of  mountain. 

"  There,"  said  the  captain,  "  gentlemen  and  ladies,  is  where 
Eitz-James  hlow'd  his  bugle,  and  waited  for  the  *  light  shal- 
lop '  of  Ellen  Douglas  ;  and  here,  where  you  landed  and  came 
up  them  steps,  is  where. she  brought  him  to  the  bower,  and 
the  very  tree's  still  there— as  you  see'd  me  tak'  hold  of  it — 
and  over  the  hill,  yonder,  is  where  the  gallant  gray  giv'  out, 
and  breathed  his  last,  and  (will  you  turn  round,  if  you  please, 
them  that  likes)  yonder's  where  Fitz  James  met  Eed  Murdoch 
that  killed  Blanche  of  Devon,  and  right  across  this  water 
swum  young  Greme  that  disdained  the  regular  boat,  and  I 
s'pose  on  that  lower  step  set  the  old  Harper  and  Ellen  many 
a  time  a-watching  for  Douglas — and  now,  if  you'd  like  to  hear 
the  echo  once  more — " 

"  Heaven  forbid  !"  was  the  universal  cry ;  and,  in  fear  of 
our  ears,  we  put  the  bower  between  us  and  Captain  Rob's 
lungs,  and  followed  the  Highland  girl  back  to  the  boat. 

From  Ellen's  Isle  to  the  head  of  the  small  creek,  so  beauti- 
fully described  in  the  Lady  of  the  Lake,  the  scenery  has  the 
same  air  of  lavish  and  graceful  vegetation,  and  the  same  fea- 
tures of  mingled  boldness  and  beauty.     It  is  a  spot  altogether 


100  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


that  one  is  sure  to  live  much  in  with  memory.  I  see  it  as 
clearly  now  as  then. 

The  whiskey  had  circulated  pretty  freely  among  the  crew, 
and  all  were  more  or  less  intoxicated.  Captain  Eob's  first 
feat  on  his  legs  was  to  drop  my  friend's  gun  ease  and  break  it 
to  pieces,  for  which  he  instantly  got  a  cuflf  between  the  eyes 
from  the  boxing  dandy,  that  would  have  done  the  business 
for  ft  softer  head.  The  Scot  was  a  powerful  fellow,  and  I 
anticipated  a  row  ;  but  the  tremendous  power  of  the  blow  and 
the  skill  with  which  it  was  planted,  quite  subdued  him.  He 
rose  from  the  grass  as  white  as  a  sheet,  but  quietly  shouldered 
the  portmanteau  with  which  he  had  fallen,  and  trudged  on 
with  sobered  steps  to  the  inn. 

We  took  a  post  chaise  immediately  for  Callender,  and  it 
was  not  till  we  were  five  miles  from  the  foot  of  the  lake  that  I 
lost  my  apprehensions  of  an  apparition  of  the  Highlander  from 
the  darkening  woods.  We  arrived  at  Callender  at  nine,  and 
the  next  morning  at  sunrise  were  on  our  way  to  breakfast  at 
Stirling. 


LETTER  X  I  V. 


SCOTTISH    STAGES THOROUGH-BRED    SETTER SCENERY FEMALE 

PEASANTRY MARY,  QUEEN  OF  SCOTS,    STIRLING  CASTLE. 

The  lakes  of  Scotland  are  without  the  limits  of  stage-coach 
and  post-horse  civilization,  and  to  arrive  at  these  pleasant  con- 
veniences is  to  be  consoled  for  the  corresponding  change  in 
the  character  of  the  scenery.  Prom  Callander  there  is  a  coach 
to  Stirling,  and  it  was  on  the  top  of  the  "  Highlander,"  (a 
brilliant  red  coach,  with  a  picture  of  Rob  Koy  on  the  panels,) 
that,  with  my  friend  and  his  dog,  I  was  on  the  road,  bright 
and  early,  for  the  banks  of  the  Teith/  I  have  scarce  done 
justice,  by  the  way,  to  my  last  mentioned  companion,  (a  su- 
perb, thorough-bred  setter,  who  answered  to  the  derogatory 
appellation  of  Fhrt,)  for  he  had  accompanied  me  in  most  of  my 

[1011 


10r2  PAMO'CJS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

wanderings  for  a  couple  of  months,  and  his  society  had  been 
preferred  to  that  of  many  a  reasoning  animal  on  the  road,  in 
the  frequent  dearth  of  amusement.  Flirt's  pedigree  had  been 
taken  on  trust  by  my  friend,  the  dog-fancier,  of  whom  he  was 
bought,  only  knowing  that  he  came  of  a  famous  race,  belong- 
ing to  a  gentleman  living  somewhere  between  Stirling  and 
Callander ;  and  to  determine  his  birthplace  and  get  another 
of  the  same  breed,  was  a  greater  object  with  his  master  than 
to  see  all  the  lakes  and  mountains  of  Caledonia.  Poor  Flirt 
was  elevated  to  the  highest  seat  on  the  coach,  little  aware  that 
his  reputation  for  birth  and  breeding  depended  on  his  recog- 
nising the  scenes  of  his  puppyhood — for  if  his  former  master 
had  told  truly,  these  were  the  fields  where  his  young  ideas 
had  been  taught  a  dog's  share  in  shooting,  and  his  unconscious 
tail  and  ears  were  now  under  watchful  surveillance  for  a  be- 
trayal of  his  presumed  reminiscences. 

The  coach  rolled  on  over  the  dew-damp  road,  crossing  con- 
tinually those  bright  and  sparkling  rivulets,  which  gladden 
the  favored  neighborhood  of  mountains ;  and  the  fields  and 
farm  houses  took  gradually  the  look  of  thrift  and  care,  which 
indicates  an  approach  to  a  thickly  settled  country.  The  cas- 
tle of  Doune,  a  lovely  hunting  seat  of  the  Queen  of  Scots, 
appeared  in  the  distance,  with  its  gray  towers  half  buried  in 
trees,  when  Flirt  began  to  look  before  and  behind,  and  take 
less  notice  of  the  shabby  gentleman  on  his  left,  who,  from 
sharing  with  him  a  volant  breakfast  of  bread  and  bacon,  had 
hitherto  received  the  most  of  his  attention.  "We  kept  on  at  a 
pretty  pace,  and  Flirt's  tail  shifted  sides  once  or  twice  with  a 
very  decided  whisk,  and  hi.s  intelligent  head  gradually  grew 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  IQS 


more  erect  upon  his  neck  of  white-and-tan.  It  was  evident 
he  had  travelled  the  road  before.  Still  on,  and  as  the  pellucid 
Teith  began  to  reflect  in  her  eddying  mirror  the  towers  of 
Castle  Doune — a  scene  worthy  of  its  tender  and  chivalrous 
iassociations — a  suppressed  whine  and  a  fixed  look  over  the 
fields  to  the  right,  satisfied  us  that  the  soul  of  the  setter  was 
stirring  up  with  the  recognition  of  the  past.  The  coach  was 
stopped  and  Flirt  loosed  from  his  chain,  and,  with  a  promise 
to  join  me  at  Stirling  at  dinner,  my  friend  *'  hied  away  "  the 
delighted  dog  over  the  hedge,  and  followed -himself  on  foot,  to 
visit,  by  canine  guidance,  the  birthplace  of  this  accomplished 
family.  It  was  quite  beautiful  to  see  the  fine  creature  beat 
the  field  over  and  over  in  his  impatience,  returning  to  his 
slower-footed  master,  as  if  to  hurry  him  onward,  and  leaping 
about  him  with  an  extravagance  eloquent  of  such  unusual  joy. 
I  lost  sight  of  them  by  a  turning  in  the  road,  and  reverted  for 
consolation  to  that  loveliest  river,  on  whose  bank  I  could  have 
lain  (had  I  breakfasted)  and  dreamed  till  the  sunset  of  the  un- 
fortunate queen,  for  whose  soft  eyes  and  loving  heart  it  per- 
haps flowed  no  more  brightly  in  the  days  of  Rizzio,  than  now 
for  mine  and  those  of  the  early  marketers  to  Stirling. 

The  road  was  thronged  with  carts,  and  peasants  in  their 
best  attire.  The  gentleman  who  had  provided  against  the 
enemy  with  a  brown  paper  of  bread  and  bacon,  informed  me 
that  it  was  market  day.  A  very  great  proportion  of  the 
country  people  were  women  and  girls,  walking  all  of  them 
barefoot,  but  with  shoes  in  their  hands,  and  gowns  and  bon- 
nets that  would  have  eclipsed  in  finery  the  bevy  of  noble  ladies 
at  Gordon  Castle.     Leghorn  straw-hats  and   dresses  of  silk, 


J  04         FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


with  ribands  of  any  quantity  and  brilliancy,  were  the  com- 
monest articles.  Feet  excepted,  however,  (for  they  had  no 
triflers  of  pedestals,  and  stumped  along  the  road  with  a  sove- 
reign independence  of  pools  and  pebbles)  they  were  a  whole- 
some-looking and  rather  pretty  class  of  females;  and,  with 
the  exception  of  here  and  there  a  prim  lassie  who  dropped  her 
dress  over  her  feet  while  the  coach  passed,  and  hid  her  shoes 
under  her  handkerchief,  they  seemed  perfectly  satisfied  with 
their  own  mode  of  conveyance,  and  gave  us  a  smile  in  passing, 
which  said  very  distinctly,  "  You'll  be  there  before  us,  but  it's 
only  seven  miles,  and  we'll  foot  it  in  time."  How  various  are 
the  joys  of  life  !  I  went  on  with  the  coach,  wondering  whe- 
ther I  ever  could  be  reduced  to  find  pleasure  in  walking  ten 
miles  barefoot  to  a  fair — and  back  again  ! 

I  thought  again  of  Mary,  as  the  turrets  of  the  proud  castle 
where  she  was  crowned  became  more  distinct  in  the  approach 
— but  it  is  diflScult  in  entering  a  crowded  town,  with  a  real 
breakfast  in  prospect  and  live  Scotchmen  about  me,  to  remem- 
ber with  any  continuous  enthusiasm  even  the  most  brilliant 
events  in  history. 

"  Can  history  cut  my  hay  or  get  my  com  in  ? 
Or  can  philosophy  vend  it  in  the  market  ?" 

says  somebody  in  the  play,  and  with  a  similar  thought  I  looked 
up  at  the  lofty  towers  of  the  home  of  Scotland's  kings,  as  the 
*'  Highlander"  bowled  round  its  rocky  base  to  the  inn.  The 
landlord  appeared  with  his  white  apron,  "  boots  "  with  his 
ladder,  the  coachman  and  guards  with  their  hints  to  your 
memory  ;  and,  having  ordered  breakfast  of  the  first,  descend- 
ed the  "  convenience  '*  of  the  second,  and  received  a  tip  of  the 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND. 


105 


hat  for  a  shilling  to  the  remaining  two,  I  was  at  liberty  to 
walk  up  stairs  and  while  away  a  melancholy  half  hour  in 
humming  such  charitable  stanzas  as  would  come  uncalled  to 
my  aid. 

"  Oh  for  a  plump  fat  leg  of  mutton, 
Veal,  lamb,  capon,  pig,  and  cony, 
None  is  happy  but  a  glutton. 
None  an  ass  but  who  wants  money." 

So  sang  the  servant  of  Diogenes,  with  an  exceptionable  mo- 
rality, which,  nevertheless,  it  is  difficult  to  get  out  of  one's 
head  at  Stirling,  if  one  has  not  already  breakfasted. 


I  limped  up  the  long  street  leading  to  the  castle,  stopping 
on  the  way  to  look  at  a  group  of  natives  who  were  gaping  at 
an  advertisement  just  stuck  to  the  wall,  offering  to  take  emi- 
grants to  New  York  on  terms  "  ridiculously  trifling."  Kemem* 
bering  the  "  bannocks  o'  barley  meal"  I  had  eaten  for  break 
fast,  the  haddocks  and  marmalade,  the  cold  grouse  and  por- 
ridge, I  longed  to  pull  Sawney  by  the  coat,  and  tell  him  he 
was  just  as  well  where  he  was.  Yet  the  temptation  of  the 
Greenock  trader,  "  cheap  and  nasty  "  though  it  were,  was 
not  uninviting  to  me  ! 

I  was  met  on  the  drawbridge  of  the  castle  by  a  trim  corpo- 
ral, who  offered  to  show  me  the  lions  for  a  consideration.     I 

put  myself  under   his  guidance,  and  he  took  me  to  Queen 
5* 


1 06         FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


Mary's  apartments,  used  at  present  for  a  mess-room,  to  tho 
chamber  where  Earl  Douglas  was  murdered,  etc.  etc.  etc.,  in 
particulars  which  are  accurately  treated  of  in  the  guide-books. 
The  pipers  were  playing  in  the  court,  and  a  company  or  two 
of  a  Highland  regiment,  in  their  tartans  and  feathers,  were 
under  parade.  This  was  attractive  metal  to  me,  and  I  sat 
down  on  a  parapet,  where  I  soon  struck  up  a  friendship  with 
a  curly-headed  varlet,  some  four  years  old,  who  shouldered 
my  stick  without  the  ceremony  of  "  by-yourleave,"  and  com- 
menced the  drill  upon  an  unwashed  regiment  of  his  equals  in 
a  sunshiny  corner  below.  It  was  delightful  to  see  their  grav- 
ity, and  the  military  air  with  which  they  cocked  their  bonnets 
and  stuck  out  their  little  round  stomachs  at  the  word  of  com- 
mand. My  little  Captain  Cockchafer  returned  my  stick  like 
a  knight  of  honor,  and  familiarly  climbed  upon  my  knee  to  re- 
pose after  his  campaign,  very  much  to  the  surprise  of  his 
mother,  who  was  hanging  out  to  dry,  what  looked  like  his 
father's  inexpressibles,  from  a  window  above,  and  who  came 
down  and  apologized  in  the  most  unmitigated  Scotch  for  the 
liberty  the  "  babby  "  had  taken  with  "  his  honor."  For  the 
child  of  a  camp-follower,  it  was -a  gallant  boy,  and  I  remem- 
ber him  better  than  the  drill-sergeant  or  the  piper. 

On  the  north  side  of  Stirling  Castle  the  view  is  bounded  by 
the  Grampians  and  laced  by  the  winding  Teith ;  and  just  un- 
der the  battlements  lies  a  green  hollow  called  the  "  King's 
Knot,"  where  the  gay  tournaments  were  held,  and  the  "  La- 
dies' Hill,''  where  sat  the  gay  and  lovely  spectators  of  the 
chivalry  of  Scotland.  Heading  Hill  is  near  it,  where  James 
executed  Albany  and  his  sons,  and  the  scenes  and  events  of 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  jq7 

history  and  poetry  are  thickly  sown  at  your  feet.  Once  reca- 
pitulated, however — the  Bruce  and  the  Douglas,  Mary  and 
the  "  Gudeman  of  Ballengiech,"  once  honored  in  memory — 
the  surpassing  beauty  of  the  prospect  from  Stirling  towers, 
engross  the  fancy  and  fill  the  eye.  It  was  a  day  of  predomi- 
nant sunshine,  with  here  and  there  the  shadow  of  a  cloud 
darkening  a  field  of  stubble  or  a  bend  of  the  river,  and  I  wan- 
dered i^ound  from  bastion  to  bastion,  never  sated  with  gazing, 
•and  returning  continually  to  the  points  from  which  the  corpo- 
ral had  hurried  me  on.  .There  lay  the  Forth — here  Bannock- 
burn  and  Falkirk,  and  all  bathed  and  flooded  with  beauty. 
Let  him  who  thinks  the  earth  ill-looking,  peep  at  it  through 
the  embrasures  of  Stirling  Castle. 

My  friend,  the  corporal,  got  but  sixteen  pence  a  day,  and 
had  a  wife  and  children — but  much  as  I  should  dishke  all 
three  as  disconnected  items,  I  envied  him  his  lot  altogether.  A 
garrison  life  at  Stirling,  and  plenty  of  leisure,  would  reconcile 
one  almost  to  wife  and  children  and  a  couple  of  pistareens  ^er 
diem. 


LETTER  XV 


SCOTCH  SCENERY A  RACE — CHEAPNESS  OF  LODGINGS  IN  EDINBURGH 

ABBOTTSFORD SCOTT LORD    DALIIOUSIE THOMAS    MOORE 

JANE  PORTER THE  GRAVE  OF  SCOTT. 

I  WAS  delighted  to  find  Stirling  rather  worse  than  Albany 
in  the  matter  of  steamers.  I  had  a  running  fight  for  my 
portmanteau  and  carpetbag  from  the  hotel  to  the  pier,  and 
was  at  last  embarked  in  entirely  the  wrong  boat,  by  sheer 
force  of  pulling  and  lying.  They  could  scarce  hiive  put  me  in 
a  greater  rage  between  Cruttenden's  and  the  Overslaugh. 

The  two  rival  steamers,  the  Victory  and  the  Ben  Lomond, 
got  under  way  together ;  the  former,  in  which  I  was  a  com- 
pulsory passenger,  having  a  flagelet  and  a  bass  drum  by  way 
of  a  band,  and  the  other  a  dozen  lusty  performers  and  most 
of  the  company.     The  river  was  very  narrow  and  the  tide 

[108] 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  109 


down,  and  though  the  other  was  the  better  boat,  we  had  the 
bolder  pilot,  and  were  lighter  laden  and  twice  as  desperate.  I 
found  my  own  spunk  stirred  irresistibly  after  the  first  mile. 
We  were  contending  against  odds,  and  there  was  something 
in  it  that  touched  my  Americanism  nearly.  We  had  three 
small  boys  mounted  on  the  box  over  the  wheel,  who  cheered 
and  waved  their  hats  at  our  momentary  advantages ;  but  the 
channel  was  full  of  windings,  and  if  we  gained  on  the  larboard 
tack  we  lost  on  the  starboard.  Whenever  we  were  quite 
abreast  and  the  wheels  touched  with  the  narrowness  of  the 
river,  we  marched  our  flagelet  and  bass-drum  close  to  the  ene- 
my and  gave  them  a  blast  "  to  wake  the  dead,"  taking  occa- 
sion, during  our  moments  of  defeat,  to  recover  breath  and  ply 
the  principal  musician  with  beer  and  encouragement.  It  was 
a  scene  for  Cooper  to  describe.  The  two  pilots  stood  broad 
on  their  legs,  every  muscle  on  the  alert ;  and  though  Ben  Lo- 
mond wore  the  cleaner  jacket.  Victory  had  the  "  varminter  " 
look.  You  would  have  bet  on  Victory  to  have  seen  the  man. 
He  was  that  wickedest  of  all  wicked  things,  a  wicked  Scotch- 
man— a  sort  of  saint-turned -sinner.  The  expression  of  early 
good  principles  was  glazed  over  with  drink  and  recklessness, 
like  a  scene  from  the  Inferno  painted  over  a  Madonna  of  Ra- 
phael's. It  was  written  in  his  face  that  he  was  a  transgressor 
against  knowledge.  We  were  perhaps,  a  half  dozen  passen- 
gers, exclusive  of  the  boys,  and  we  rallied  round  ourBardolph 
nosed  hero  and  applauded  his  skilful  mancEuvres ;  sun,  steam, 
and  excitement  together,  producing  a  temperature  on  deck 
that  left  nothing  to  dread  from  the  boiler.  As  we  approached 
a  sharp  bend  in  the  course  of  the  stream,  I  perceived  by  the 


IIQ  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

countenance  of  our  pilot,  that  it  was  to  be  a  critical  moment. 
The  Ben  Lomond  was  a  little  ahead,  but  we  had  the  advan- 
tage of  the  inside  of  the  course,  and  very  soon,  with  the  com- 
mencement of  the  curve,  we  gained  sensibly  on  the  enemy,  and 
I  saw  clearly  that  we  should  cut  her  off  by  a  half  boat's 
length.  The  three  boys  on  the  wheel  began  to  shout,  the 
flagelet  made  all  split  again  with  "  the  Campbells  arecomin'," 
the  bass-drum  was  never  so  belabored,  and  "  Up  with  your 
helm!"  cried  every  voice,  as  we  came  at  the  rate  of  twelve 
miles  in  the  hour  sharp  on  to  the  angle  of  mud  and  bulrushes, 
and,  to  our  utter  surprise,  the  pilot  jammed  down  his  tiller, 
and  ran  the  battered  nose  of  the  Victory  plump  in  upon  the 
enemy's  forward  quarter  !  The  next  moment  we  were  going 
it  like  mad  down  the  middle  of  the  river,  and  far  astern  stuck 
the  Ben  Lomond  in  the  mud,  her  paddles  driving  her  deeper 
at  every  stroke,  her  music  hushed,  and  the  crowd  on  her  deck 
standing  speechless  with  amazement.  The  flagelet  and  bass- 
drum  marched  aft  and  played  louder  than  ever,  and  we  were 
soon  in  the  open  Frith,  getting  on  merrily,  but  without  com- 
petition, to  the  sleeping  isle  of  Inchkeith.  Lucky  Victory  ! 
luckier  pilot !  to  have  found  an  historian  !  How  many  a  red- 
nosed  Palinurus — how  many  a  bass  drum  and  flagelet,  have 
done  their  duty  as  well,  yet  achieved  no  immortality. 

I  was  glad  to  see  "  Auld  Keekie  "  again,  though  the  influx 
of  strangers  to  the  "  Scientific  Meeting  "  had  over-run  every 
hotel,  and  I  was  an  hour  or  two  without  a  home.  I  lit  at  last 
upon  a  good  old  Scotchwoman  who  had  "  a  flat  "  to  herself, 
and  who,  for  the  sum  of  one  shilling  and  sixpence  per  diem, 
proposed  to  transfer  her  only  boarder  from  hia  bed  to  a  sofa, 


A  TKir  TO   SCOTLAND.  m 


as  long  as  I  should  wit^h  to  stay.  I  luado  a  humane  remon- 
strance against  the  inconvenience  to  her  friend.  "  It's  only  a 
Jew,"  she  said,  "  and  they're  na  difficult,  puir  bodies !"  The 
Hebrew  came  in  while  we  were  debating  the  point — a  smirk- 
ing gentleman,  with  very  elaborate  whiskers,  much  better 
dressed  than  the  proposed  usurper  of  his  sanctum — and  with- 
out the  slightest  hesitation  professed  that  nothing  would  give 
him  so  much  pain  as  to  stand  in  the  way  of  his  landlady's  in- 
terest. So  for  eighteen  pence — and  I  could  not  prevail  on  her 
to  take  another  farthing — I  had  a  Jew  put  to  inconvenience,  a 

bed,  boots  and  clothes  brushed,  and  Mrs.  Mac to  sit  up 

for  me  till  two  in  the  morning — what  the  Jew  himself  would 
have  called  a  "  cheap  article." 


I  returned  to  my  delightful  quarters  at  Dalhousie  Castle  on 
the  following  day,  and  among  many  excursions  in  the  neigh- 
borhood during  the  ensuing  week,  accomplished  a  visit  to 
Abbottsford.  This  most  interesting  of  all  spots  has  been  so 
minutely  and  so  often  described,  that  a  detailed  account  of  it 
would  be  a  mere  repetition.  Description,  however,  has  anti- 
cipated nothing  to  the  visiter.  The  home  of  Sir  Walter  Scott 
would  possess  an  interest  to  thrill  the  heart,  if  it  were  as  well 
painted  to  the  eye  of  fancy  as  the  homes  of  his  own  heroes. 

It  is  a  dreary  country  about  Abbottsford,  and  the  house 
itself  looks  from  a  distance  like  a  small,  low  castle,  buried  in 
stunted  trees,  on  the  side  of  a  long,  sloping  upland  or  moor. 


112  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


The  river  is  between  you  and  the  chateau  as  you  come  down 
to  Melrose  from  the  north,  and  you  see  the  gray  towers  oppo- 
site you  from  the  road  at  the  distance  of  a  mile — the  only 
habitable  spot  in  an  almost  desolate  waste  of  country.  From 
the  town  of  Melrose  you  approach  Abbottsford  by  a  long, 
green  lane,  and,  from  the  height  of  the  hedge  and  the  descend- 
ing ground  on  which  the  house  is  built,  you  would  scarce 
suspect  its  vicinity  till  you  enter  a  small  gate  on  the  right  and 
find  yourself  in  an  avenue  of  young  trees.  This  conducts  you 
immediately  to  the  door,  and  the  first  efiect  on  me  was  that  of 
a  spacious  castle  seen  through  a  reversed  glass.  In  fact  it  is 
a  kind  of  castle  cottage — not  larger  than  what  is  often  called 
a  cottage  in  England,  yet  to  the  minutest  point  and  proportion 
a  model  of  an  ancient  castle.  The  deception  in  the  engravings 
of  the  place  lies  in  the  scale.  It  seems  like  a  vast  building  as 
usually  drawn. 

One  or  two  hounds  were  lounging  round  the  door  ;  but  the 
only  tenant  of  the  place  was  a  slovenly  housemaid,  whom  we 
interrupted  in  the  profane  task  of  scrubbing  the  furniture  in 
the  library.  I  could  have  pitched  her  and  her  scrubbing 
brushes  out  of  the  window  with  a  good  will.  It  is  really  a 
pity  that  this  sacred  place,  with  its  thousand  valuable  and  irre- 
placeable curiosities,  should  be  so  carelessly  neglected.  We 
were  left  to  wander  over  the  house  and  the  museum  as  we 
liked.  I  could  have  brought  away — and  nothing  is  more 
common  than  this  species  of  theft  in  England — twenty  things 
from  that  rare  collection,  of  which  the  value  could  scarce  bo 
estimated.  The  pistols  and  dagger  of  Rob  Roy,  and  u  hun- 
dred equally  valuable  and  pocketablo  things,  lay  on  the  shelvei 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  ]  j  3 


unprotected,  quite  at  the  mercy  of  the  ill-disposed,  to  say  no- 
thing of  the  merciless  "  cleanings  "  of  the  housemaid.  The 
present  Sir  Walter  Scott  is  a  captain  of  dragoons,  with  his 
regiment  in  Ireland,  and  the  place  is  never  occupied  by  the 
family.  Why  does  not  Scotland  buy  Abbottsford,  and  secure 
to  herself,  while  it  is  still  perfect,  the  home  of  her  great  magi- 
cian, and  the  spot  that  to  after  ages  would  be,  if  preserved  in 
its  curious  details,  the  most  interesting  in  Great  Britjiin  ? 

After  showing  us  the  principal  rooms,  the  woman  opened  a 
small  closet  adjoining  the  study,  in  which  hung  the  last  clothes 
that  Sir  Walter  had  worn.  There  was  the  broad-skirted  blue 
coat  with  large  buttons,  the  plaid  trousers,  the  heavy  shoes, 
the  broad-rimmed  hat  and  stout  walking  stick — the  dress  in 
which  he  rambled  about  in  the  morning,  and  which  he  laid 
ofif  when  he  took  to  his  bed  in  his  last  illness.  She  took  down 
the  coat  and  gave  it  a  shake  and  a  wipe  of  the  collar,  as  if  he 
were  waiting  to  put  it  on  again  ! 

It  was  encroaching  somewhat  on  the  province  of  Touch- 
stone and  Wamba  to  moralize  on  a  suit  of  clothes — but  I  am 
convinced  I  got  from  them  a  better  idea  of  Scott,  as  he  was 
in  his  familiar  hours,  than  any  man  can  have  who  has  seen 
neither  him  nor  them.  There  was  a  character  in  the  hat  and 
shoes.  The  coat  was  an  honest  and  hearty  coat.  The  stout, 
rough  walking-stick,  seemed  as  if  it  could  have  belonged  to 
no  other  man.  I  appeal  to  my  kind  friends  and  fellow  travel- 
lers who  were  there  three  days  before  me  (I  saw  their  names 
on  the  book,)  if  the  same  impression  was  not  made  on  them. 

I  asked  for  the  room  in  which  Sir  Walter  died.  She  showed 
it  to  me,  and  the  place  where  the  bed  had  stood,  which  was 


114  FAMOUS   PERSOMb  AMI.   1'i.AUli.b. 


now  removed.  I  was  curious  to  see  the  wall  or  the  picture 
over  which  his  last  looks  must  have  passed.  Directly  opposite 
the  foot  of  the  bed  hung  a  remarkable  picture — the  head  of 
Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  in  a  dish  taken  after  her  execution. 
The  features  were  composed  and  beautiful.  On  either  side 
of  it  hung  spirited  drawings  from  the  Tales  of  a  Grandfather 
— one  very  clever  sketch,  representing  the  wife  of  a  border- 
knight  serving  up  her  husband's  spurs  for  dinner,  to  remind 
him  of  the  poverty  of  the  larder  and  the  necessity  of  a  foray. 
On  the  left  side  of  the  bed  was  a  broad  window  to  the  west — 
the  entrance  of  the  last  light  to  his  eyes — and  from  hence  had 
sped  the  greatest  spirit  that  has  walked  the  world  since 
Shakspeare.  It  almost  makes  the  heart  stand  still  to  be  silent 
and  alone  on  such  a  spot. 

What  an  interest  there  is  in  the  trees  of  Abbottsford — 
planted  every  one  by  the  same  hand  that  waved  its  wand  of 
enchantment  over  the  world  !  One  walks  among  them  as  if 
they  had  thoughts  and  memories. 

Everybody  talks  of  Scott  who  has  ever  had  the  happiness 
of  seeing  him,  and  it  is  strange  how  interesting  it  is  even  when 
there  is  no  anecdote,  and  only  the  most  commonplace  inter- 
view is  narrated.  I  have  heard,  since  I  have  been  in  England, 
hundreds  of  people  describe  their  conversations  with  him,  and 
never  the  dullest  without  a  certain  interest  far  beyond  that  of 
common  topics.  Some  of  these  have  been  celebrated  people, 
and  there  is  the  additional  weight  that  they  were  honored 
friends  of  Sir  Walter's. 

Lord  Dalhousie  told  me  that  he  was  Scott's  playfellow  at 
the  high  school  of  Edinboro'.     There  was  a  peculiar  arrange- 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  jj^ 


ment  of  the  benches  with  a  head  and  foot,  bo  that  the  ooys 
sat  above  or  below,  according  to  their  success  in  recitation.  It 
so  happened  that  the  warmest  seat  in  the  school,  that  next  to 
the  stove,  was  about  two  from  the  bottom,  and  this  Scott, 
who  was  a  very  good  scholar,  contrived  never  to  leave.  He 
stuck  to  his  seat  from  autumn  till  spring,  never  so  deficient  as 
to  get  down,  and  never  choosing  to  answer  rightly  if  the  re- 
sult was  to  go  up.  He  was  very  lame,  and  seldom  shared  in 
the  sports  of  the  other  boys,  but  was  a  prodigious  favorite, 
and  loved  to  sit  in  the  sunshine,  with  a  knot  of  boys  around 
him,  telling  stories.  Lord  Dalhousie's  friendship  with  him 
was  uninterrupted  through  life,  and  he  invariably  breakfasted 
at  the  oastle  on  his  way  to  and  from  Edinboro'. 

I  met  Moore  at  a  dinner  party  not  long  since,  and  Scott 
was  again,  (as  at  a  previous  dinner  I  have  described)  the  sub- 
ject of  conversation.  "  He  was  the  soul  of  honesty,"  said 
Moore.  "  When  I  was  on  a  visit  to  him,  we  were  coming  up 
from  Kelso  at  sunset,  and  as  there  was  to  be  a  fine  moon,  I 
quoted  to  him  his  own  rule  for  seeing  '  fair  Melrose  aright,' 
and  proposed  to  stay  an  hour  and  enjoy  it.  *  Bah  !'  said  he, 
"  I  never  saw  it  by  moonlight.'  We  went,  however ;  and 
Scott,  who  seemed  to  be  on  the  most  familiar  terms  with  the 
cicerone,  pointed  to  an  empty  niche  and  said  to  him,  '  I  think, 
by  the  way,  that  I  have  a  Virgin  and  Child  that  will  just  do 
for  your  niche.  I'll  send  it  to  you  !'  '  How  happy  you  have 
made  that  man  !'  said  I  to  him.  *  Oh,'  said  Scott,  '  it  was 
always  in  the  way,  and  Madame  S.  is  constantly  grudging  it 
house-room.     We're  well  rid  of  it.' 


I  1 6  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


"  Any  other  man,"  said  Moore,  "  would  have  allowed  him- 
self at  least  the  credit  of  a  kind  action." 

I  have  had  the  happiness  since  I  have  been  in  England  of 
passing  some  weeks  at  a  country  house  where  Miss  Jane 
Porter  was  an  honored  guest,  and,  among  a  thousand  of  the 
most  delightful  reminiscences  that  were  ever  treasured,  she 
has  told  me  a  great  deal  of  Scott,  who  visited  at  her  mother's 
as  a  boy.  She  remembers  him  then  as  a  good-humored  lad, 
but  very  fond  of  fun,  who  used  to  take  her  younger  sister, 
(Anna  Maria  Porter)  and  frighten  her  by  holding  her  out  of 
the  window.  Miss  Porter  had  not  seen  him  since  that  age ; 
but,  after  the  appearance  of  Guy  Mannering,  she  heard  that 
he  was  in  London,  and  drove  with  a  friend  to  his  house.  Not 
quite  sure  (as  she  modestly  says)  of  being  remembered,  she 
sent  in  a  note,  saying,  that  if  he  remembered  the  Porters, 
whom  he  used  to  visit,  Jane  would  like  to  see  him.  He  came 
rushing  to  the  door,  and  exclaimed,  "  Remember  you !  Miss 
Porter,"  and  threw  his  arms  about  her  neck  and  burst  into 
tears.  After  this  he  corresponded  constantly  with  the  family, 
and  about  the  time  of  his  first  stroke  of  paralysis,  when  his 
mind  and  memory  failed  him,  the  mother  of  Miss  Porter  died, 
and  Scott  sent  a  letter  of  condolence.  It  began — "  Dear 
Miss  Porter  " — but,  as  he  went  on,  he  forgot  himself,  and 
continued  the  letter  as  if  addressed  to  her  mother,  ending  it 
with — "  And  now,  dear  Mrs.  Porter,  farewell !  and  believe 
me  yours  for  ever  (as  long  as  there  is  anything  of  me)  Wal- 
ter Scott."  Miss  Porter  bears  testimony,  like  every  one  else 
who  knew  him,  to  bis  greathearted ness  no  less  than  to  his 
genius. 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  117 


I  am  not  sure  that  others  like  as  well  as  myself  these  "  no- 
things "  about  men  of  genius.  I  would  rather  hear  the  con- 
versation between  Scott  and  a  peasant  on  the  road,  for  exam- 
ple, than  the  most  piquant  anecdote  of  bis  brighter  hours.  I 
like  a  great  mind  in  dishabille. 

We  returned  by  Melrose  Abbey,  of  which  I  can  say  nothing 
new,  and  drove  to  Dryburgh  to  see  the  grave  of  Scott.  He 
is  buried  in  a  rich  old  Gothic  corner  of  a  ruin — fittingly.  He 
chose  the  spot,  and  he  sleeps  well.  The  sunshine  is  broken 
on  his  breast  by  a  fretted  and  pinnacled  window,  overrun  with 
ivyj  and  the  small  chapel  in  which  he  lies  is  open  to  the  air, 
and  ornamented  with  the  mouldering  scutcheons  of  his  race. 
There  are  few  more  beautiful  ruins  than  Dryburgh  Abbey, 
and  Scott  lies  in  its  sunniest  and  most  fanciful  nook — a  grave 
that  seems  divested  of  the  usual  horrors  of  a  grave. 

We  were  ascending  the  Gala-water  at  sunset,  and  supped 
at  Dalhousie,  after  a  day  crowned  with  thought  and  feeling. 


LETTER  XVI 


BORDER     SCENERY COACHMANSHIP ENGLISH      COUNTRY-SEATS — 

THEIR  EXQUISITE  COMFORT OLD    CUSTOMS    IN    HIGH    PRESERVA- 
TION  PRIDE    AND    STATELINESS  OF  THE  LANCASHIRE  AND  CHESH 

IRE  GENTRY THEIR  CONTEMPT  FOR  PARVENUS. 

If  Scott  had  done  nothing  else,  he  would   have  deserved 

well  of  his  country  for  giving  an  interest  to  the  barren  wastes 

by  which  Scotland  is  separated  from  England.     "  A'  the  blue 

bonnets"  must  have  had  a  melancholy  march  of  it  "  Over  the 

Border."     From    Gala- Water  to   Carlisle  it   might   be   any 

where   a  scene  for  the  witches'  meeting  in  Macbeth.      We 

bowled  away  at  nearly  twelve  miles  in  the  hour,    however, 

(which  would  unwind  almost  any  "  serpent  of  care  "  from  the 

heart,)  and  if  the  road  was  not  lined  with  witches  and  moss- 
[118J 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  jjg 


troopers,  it  was  well  macadamized.  I  got  a  treacherous 
supper  at  Howick,  where  the  Douglas  pounced  upon  Sir 
Alexander  Eamsay;  and,  recovering  my  good  humor  at  Car- 
lisle, grew  happier  as  the  fields  grew  greener,  and  came  down 
by  Kendal  and  its  emerald  valleys  with  the  speed  of  an  arrow 
and  the  light  heartedness  of  its  feather.  How  little  the  farmer 
thinks  when  he  plants  his  hedges  and  sows  his  fields,  that  the 
j'ussing  wayfarer  will  anticipate  the  gleaners  and  gather  sun- 
phi  ne  from  his  ripening  harvest. 

I  was  admiring  the  fine  old  castle  of  Lancaster,  (now  dese- 
crated to  the  purposes  of  a  county  jail,)  when  our  thirteen- 
mile  whip  ran  over  a  phaeton  standing  quietly  in  the  road, 
and  spilt  several  women  and  children,  as  you  may  say,  en 
2)assant,  The  coach  must  arrive,  though  it  kill  as  many  as 
Juggernaut,  and  Jehu  neither  changed  color,  nor  spoke  a 
W'Ord,  but  laid  the  silk  over  his  leaders  to  make  up  the  back- 
water of  the  jar,  and  rattled  away  up  the  street,  with  the  guard 
blowing  the  French  horn  to  the  air  of  "  Smile  again,  my  bonny 
lassie."  Nobody  threw  stones  after  us ;  the  horses  were 
changed  in  a  minute  and  three  quarters,  and  away  we  sped 
from  the  town  of  the  "  red  nose."  There  was  a  cool,  you- 
know-where-to-find-me  sort  of  indifference  'in  this  adventure, 
which  is  peculiarly  English.  I  suppose  if  his  leaders  had 
changed  suddenly  into  griffins,  he  would  have  touched  them 
under  the  wing  and  kept  his  pace. 

Bound  on  a  visit  to  Hall  in  Lancashire,  I  left  the 

coach  at  Preston.  The  landlady  of  the  Eed  Lion  became 
very  suddenly  anxious  that  I  should  not  take  cold  when  she 
found  out  the  destination  of  her  post-chaise.     I  arrived  just 


1 20        FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


after  sunset  at  my  friend's  lodge,  and  ordering  the  postillion 
to  a  walk,  drove  leisurely  through  the  gathering  twilight  to 
the  Hall.  It  was  a  mile  of  winding  road  through  the  pecu- 
liarly delicious  scenery  of  an  English  park,  the  game  visible 
in  every  direction,  and  the  glades  and  woods  disposed  with 
that  breadth  and  luxuriance  of  taste  that  make  the  country 
houses  of  England  palaces  in  Arcadia.  Anxious  as  I  had 
been  to  meet  my  friend,  whose  hospitality  I  had  before  expe- 
rienced in  Italy,  I  was  almost  sorry  when  the  closely-shaven 
sward  and  glancing  lights  informed  me  that  my  twilight  drive 
was  near  its  end. 

An  arrival  in  a  strange  house  in  England  seems,  to  a  for- 
eigner, almost  magical.  The  absence  of  all  the  bustle  conse- 
quent on  the  same  event  abroad,  the  silence,  respectfulness, 
and  self-possession  of  the  servants,  the  ease  and  expedition 
with  which  he  is  installed  in  a  luxurious  room,  almost  with 
his  second  breath  under  the  roof — his  portmanteau  unstrap- 
ped, his  toilet  laid  out,  his  dress  shoes  and  stockings  at  his 
feet,  and  the  fire  burning  as  if  he  had  sat  by  it  all  day — it  is 
like  the  golden  facility  of  a  dream.  "  Dinner  at  seven  1"  are 
the  only  words  he  has  heard,  and  he  finds  himself  (some  three 
minutes  having  elapsed  since  he  was  on  the  road)  as  much  at 
home  as  if  he  had  lived  there  all  his  life,  and  pouring  the  hot 
water  into  his  wash-basin  with  the  feeling  that  comfort  and 
luxury  in  this  country  are  very  much  matters  of  course. 

The  bell  rings  for  dinner,  and  the  new-comer  finds  his  way 
to  the  drawing  room.  He  has  not  seen  his  host,  perhaps,  for 
a  year ;  but  his  entree  is  anything  but  a  scene.  A  cordial 
shake  of  the  hand,  a  simple  inquiry  after  his  health,  while  the 


/ 
A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  j^j 


different  members  of  the  family  collect  in  the  darkened  room, 
and  the  preference  of  his  arm  by  the  lady  of  the  house  to  walk 
into  dinner,  are  all  that  would  remind  hirn  that  he  and  his 
host  had  ever  parted.  The  soup  is  criticised,  the  weather 
"resumed,"  as  the  French  have  it,  gravity  prevails,  and  the 
wine  that  he  used  to  drink  is  brought  him  without  question 
by  the  remembering  butler.  The  stranger  is  an  object  of  no 
more  attention  than  any  other  person,  except  in  the  brief 
"  glad  to  see  you,"  and  the  accompanying  just  perceptible  nod 
with  which  the  host  drinks  wine  with  him ;  and,  not  even  in 
the  abandon  of  after-dinner  conversation,  are  the  mutual  remi- 
niscences of  the  host  and  his  friend  suffered  to  intrude  on  the 
indifferent  portion  of  the  company.  The  object  is  the  general 
enjoyment,  and  you  are  not  permitted  to  monopolize  the  sym- 
pathies of  the  hour.  You  thus  escape  the  aversion  with 
which  even  a  momentary  favorite  is  looked  upon  in  society, 
and  in  your  turn  you  are  not  neglected,  or  bored  with  a  sen- 
satiqii,  on  the  arrival  of  another.  In  what  other  country  is 
civilization  carried  to  the  same  rational  perfection  ? 

I  was  under  the  hands  of  a  physician  during  the  week  of 

my  stay  at  ■ Hall,  and  only  crept  out  with  the  lizards 

for  a  little  sunshine  at  noon.  There  was  shooting  in  the  park 
for  tliose  who  liked  it,  and  fox  hunting  in  the  neighborhood 
for  those  who  could  follow,  but  I  was  content  (upon  compul- 
sion) to  be  innocent  of  the  blood  of  hares  and  partridges,  and 
the  ditches  of  Lancashire  are  innocent  of  mine.  The  well- 
stocked  library,  with  its  caressing  chairs,  was  a  paradise  of 
repose  after  travel ;  and  the  dinner,  with  its  delightful  society, 
sufficed  for  the  day's  event. 
6 


% 

1 22  'FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


My  host  was  himself  very  much  of  a  cosmopolite ;  but  his 
neighbors,  one  or  two  most  respectable  squires  of  the  old 
school  among  them,  had  the  usual  characteristics  of  people  who 
have  passed  their  lives  on  one  spot,  and  though  gentlemanlike 
and  good-humored,  were  rather  diflScult  to  amuse.  I  found 
none  of  the  uproariousness  which  distinguished  the  Squire 
Western  of  other  times.  The  hale  fox-hunter  was  in  white 
cravat  and  black  coat,  and  took  wine  and  politics  moderately ; 
and  his  wife  and  daughters,  though  silent  and  impracticable, 
were  well-dressed,  and  marked  by  that  indefinable  stamp  of 
"  blood,"  visible  no  less  in  the  gentry  than  in  the  nobility  of 
England. 

I  was  delighted  to  encounter  at  my  friend's  table  one  or 
two  of  the  old  English  peculiarities,  gone  out  nearer  the  me- 
tropolis. Toasted  cheese  and  spiced  ale — "  familiar  creatures" 
in  common  life — were  here  served  up  with  all  the  circumstance 
that  attended  them  when  they  were  not  disdained  as  the  allow- 
ance of  maids  of  honor.  On  the  disappearance  of  the  pastry, 
a  massive  silver  dish,  chased  with  the  ornate  elegance  of  an- 
cient plate,  holding  coals  beneath,  and  protected  by  a  hinged 
cover,  was  set  before  the  lady  of  the  house.  At  the  other 
extremity  of  the  table  stood  a  "  peg  tankard  "  of  the  same 
fashion,  in  the  same  massive  metal,  with  two  handles,  and 
of  an  almost  fabulous  capacity.  Cold  cheese  and  port  were 
at  a  discount.  The  celery,  albeit  both  modish  and  popular, 
was  neglected.  The  crested  cover  erected  itself  on  its  hinge, 
and  displayed  a  flat  surface,  covered  thinly  with  blistering 
cheese,  with  a  soupcon  of  brown  in  its  complexion,  quivering 
and  delicate,  and.  of  a  most  stimulating  odor.     A  little  was 


A  TRIP  TO   SCOTLAND. 


123 


served  to  each  guest,  and  commended  as  it  deserved,  and  then 
the  flagon's  -head  was  lifted  in  its  turn  by  the  staid  butler,  and 
the  master  of  the  house  drank  first.  It  went  around  with  the 
sun,  not  disdained  by  the  ladies'  lips  in  passing,  and  came  to 
me,  something  lightened  of  its  load.  As  a  stranger  I  was  ad- 
vised of  the  law  before  lifting  it  to  my  head.  Within,  from 
the  rim  to  the  bottom,  extended  a  line  of  silver  pegs,  supposed 
to  contain,  in  the  depth  from  one  to  the  other,  a  fair  draught 
for  each  bibber.  The  flagon  must  not  be  taken  from  the  lips, 
and  the  penalty  of  drinking  deeper  than  the  first  peg  below 
the  surface,  was  to  drink  to  the  second — a  task  for  the  friar 
of  Copmanhurst.  As  the  visible  measure  was  of  course  lost 
when  the  tankard  was  dipped,  it  required  some  practice  or  a 
cool  judgment  not  to  exceed  the  draught.  Raising  it  with 
my  two  hands,.  I  measured  the  distance  with  my  eye,  and 
watched  till  the  floating  argosy  of  toast  should  swim  beyond 
the  reach  of  my  nose.  The  spicy  odor  ascended  gratefully  to 
the  brain.  Tiie  cloves  and  cinnamon  clung  in  a  dark  circle  to 
the  edges.  I  drank  without  drawing  breath,  and  complacently 
passed  the  flagon.  As  the  sea  of  all  settled  to  a  calm,  my 
next  neighbor  silently  returned  the  tankard.  I  had  exceeded 
the  draught.  There  was  a  general  cry  of  "  drink  !  drink  !" 
and  sounding  my  remaining  capacity  with  the  plummet  of  a 
long  breath,  I  laid  my  hands  once  more  on  the  vessel,  and 
should  have  paid  the  penalty  or  perished  in  the  attempt,  but 
for  the  grace  shown  me  as  a  foreigner,  at  the  intercession  of 
that  sex  distinguished  for  its  mercy. 

This  adherence  to  the  more  hearty  viands  and  customs  of 
olden  time,  by  the  way,  is  an  exponent  of  a  feeling  sustained 


124  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


with  peculiar  tenacity  in  that  part  of  England.  Cheshire  and 
Lancashire  are  the  stronghold  of  that  race  peculiar  to  this 
country,  the  gentry.  In  these  counties  the  peerage  is  no  au- 
thority for  gentle  birth.  A  title  unsupported  by  centuries  of 
honorable  descent,  is  worse  than  nothing ;  and  there  is  many 
a  squire,  living  in  his  immemorial  "  Hall,"  who  would  not  ex- 
change his  name  and  pedigree  f^r  the  title  of  ninety-nine  in  a 
hundred  of  the  nobility  of  England.  Here  reigns  aristocracy. 
Your  Baron  Rothschild,  or  your  new-created  lord  from  the 
Bank  or  the  Temple,  might  build  palaces  in  Cheshire,  and  live 
years  in  the  midst  of  its  proud  gentry  unvisited.  They  are 
the  cold  cheese,  celery,  and  port,  in  comparison  with  the 
toasted  cheese  and  spiced  ale. 


LETTER  XV  IT. 


ENGLISH  CORDIALITY  AND  HOSPITALITY,    AND    THE  FEELINGS  AWAK- 
ENED BY  IT LIVERPOOL,  UNCOMFORTABLE  COFFEE-HOUSE  THERE 

TRAVELLING  AMERICANS: — NEW  YORK  PACKETS THE  RAILWAY 

MANCHESTER. 

England  would  be  a  more  pleasant  country  to  travel  in  if 
one's  feelings  took  root  with  less  facility.  In  the  continental 
countries,  the  local  ties  are  those  of  the  mind  and  the  senses. 
In  England  they  are  those  of  the  affections.  One  wanders 
from  Italy  to  Greece,  and  from  Athens  to  Ephesus,  and  re- 
turns and  departs  again  ;  and,  as  he  gets  on  shipboard,  or 
mounts  his  horse  or  his  camel,  it  is  with  a  sigh  over  some  pic- 
ture or  statue  left  behind,  some  temple  or  waterfall — perhaps 

some  cook  or  vintage.     He  makes  his  last  visit  to  the  .Fount 

[125] 


126  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

of  Egeria,  or  the  Venus  of  the  Tribune— to  the  Caryatides  of 
the  Parthenon,  or  the  Cascatelles  of  Tivoli — or  pathetically 
calls  for  his  last  bottle  of  untransferable  lachra  christi,  or  his 
last  cotelettes  provencales.  He  has  "  five  hundred  friends"  like 
other  people,  and  has  made  the  usual  continental  intimacies — 
but  his  valet-de-place  takes  charge  of  his  adieus — (distributes 
his  "  p.  p.  c's"  for  a  penny  each,)  and  he  forgets  and  is  forgot- 
ten by  those  he  leaves  behind,  ere  his  passport  is  recorded  at 
the  gates.  In  all  these  countries,  it  is  only  as  a  resident  or  a 
native  that  you  are  treated  with  kindness  or  admitted  to  the 
penetralia  of  domestic  life.  You  are  a  bird  of  passage,  ex- 
pected to  contribute  a  feather  to  every  nest,  but  welcomed  to 
none.  In  England  this  same  disqualification  becomes  a  claim. 
The  name  of  a  stranger  opens  the  private  house,  sets  you  the 
chair  of  honor,  prepares  your  bed,  and  makes  everything  that 
contributes  to  your  comfort  or  pleasure  temporarily  your  own. 
And  when  you  take  your  departure,  your  host  has  informed 
himself  of  your  route,  and  provided  you  with  letters  to  his 
friends,  and  you  may  go  through  the  country  from  end  to  end, 
and  experience  everywhere  the  same  confiding  and  liberal  hos- 
pitality. Every  foreigner  who  has  come  well  introduced  to 
England,  knows  how  unexaggerated  is  this  picture. 

I  was  put  upon  the  road  again  by  my  kind  friend,  and  with 
a  strong  west  wind  coming  off  the  Atlantic,  drove  along  with- 
in sound  of  the  waves,  on  the  road  to  Liverpool.  It  was  a 
mild  wind,  and  came  with  a  welcome — for  it  was  freighted 
with  thoughts  of  home.  Goethe  says,  we  are  never  separated 
from  our  friends  as  long  as  the  .streams  run  down  from  them 
to  us.     Certain  it  is,  that  distance  seems  less  that  is  measured 


A  TRIP  TO   SCOTLAND.         *  J27 


by  waters  and  winds.  America  seemed  near,  with  the  ocean 
at  my  feet  and  only  its  waste  paths  between.  I  sent  my  heart 
over  (against  wind  and  tide)  with  a  blessing  and  a  prayer. 

There  are  good  inns,  I  believe,  at  Liverpool,  but  the  coach 
put  me  down  at  the  dirtiest  and  worst  specimen  of  a  public 
house  that  I  have  encountered  in  England.  As  I  was  to  stay 
but  a  night,  I  overcarhe  the  prejudice  of  the  first  coup  d'odl^ 
and  made  the  best  of  a  dinner  in  the  coffee  room.  It  was 
crowded  with  people,  principally  merchants,  I  presumed,  and 
the  dinner  hour  having  barely  passed,  most  of  them  were  sit- 
ting over  their  wine  or  toddy  at  the  small  tables,  discussing 
prices  or  reading  the  newspapers.  Near  me  were  two  young 
men,  whose  faces  I  thought  familiar  to  me,  and  with  a  second 
look  I  resolved  them  into  tw^o  of  my  countrymen,  who,  I 
found  out  presently  by  their  conversation,  were  eating  their 
first  dinner  in  England.  They  were  gentlemanlike  young 
men,  of  good  education,  and  I  pleased  myself  with  looking 
about  and  imagining  the  comparison  they  would  draw,  with 
their  own  country  fresh  in  their  recollection^  between  it  and 
this.  I  could  not  help  feeling  how  erroneous  in  this  case 
would  be  a  first  impression.  The  gloomy  coffee  room,  the 
hurried  and  uncivil  waiters,  the  atrocious  cookery,  the  bad 
air,  greasy  tables,  filthy  carpet,  and  unsocial  company — and 
this  one  of  the  most  popular  and  crowded  inns  of  the  first 
commercial  town  in  England !  My  neighbors  themselves, 
too,  afforded  me  some  little  speculation.  They  were  a  fair 
specimen  of  the  young  men  of  our  country,  and  after  several 
years'  exclusive  conversance  with  other  nations,  I  was  curious 
to   compare   an   untravelled  American  with   the  Europeans 


}  28  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


around  me.  I  was  struck  with  the  exceeding  ambitiousness 
of  their  style  of  conversation.  Dr.  Pangloss  himself  would 
have  given  them  a  degree.  They  called  nothing  by  its  week- 
day name,  and  avoided  with  singular  pertinacity  exactly  that 
upon  which  the  modern  English  are  as  pertinaciously  bent — 
a  concise  homeliness  of  phraseology.  They  were  dressed 
much  better  than  the  people  about  them,  (who  were  appa-' 
rently  in  the  same  sphere  of  life,)  and  had  on  the  whole  a  supe- 
rior air — owing  possibly  to  the  custom  prevalent  in  America 
of  giving  young  men  a  university  education  before  they  enter 
into  trade.  Like  myself,  too,  they  had  not  yet  learned  the 
English  accomplishment  of  total  unconsciousness  in  the  pres- 
ence of  others.  When  not  conversing  they  did  not  study  pro- 
foundly the  grain  of  the  mahogany,  nor  gaze  with  solemn  ear- 
nestness into  the  bottom  of  their  wine-glasses,  nor  peruse  with 
the  absorbed  fixedness  of  Belshazzar,  the  figures  on  the  wall. 
They  looked  about  them  with  undisguised  curiosity,  ordered 
a  great  deal  more  wine  than  they  wanted  {very  American, 
that!)  and  were  totally  without  the  self  complacent,  self 
amused,  sober-felicity  air  which  John  Bull  assumes  after  his 
cheese  in  a  cofi'ee  room. 

I  did  not  introduce  myself  to  my  countrymen,  for  an  Amer- 
ican is  the  last  person  in  the  world  with  whom  one  should  de- 
part from  the  ordinary  rules  of  society.  Having  no  fixed  rank 
either  in  their  own  or  a  foreign  country,  they  construe  all  un- 
common civility  into  either  a  freedom,  or  a  desire  to  patronise 
— and  the  last  is  the  unpardonable  sin.  They  called  after  a 
while  for  a  *•  mint  julep,"  (unknown  in  England,)  for  slippers, 


A  THn>  TO  SCOTLAND  i^g 


(rather  an  unusual  call  also — gentlemen  usually  wearing  their 
own,)  and  seemed  very  much  surprised  on  asking  for  candles, 
at  being  ushered  to  bed  by  the  chambermaid. 

I  passed  the  next  morning  in  walking  about  Liverpool.  It 
is  singularly  like  New  York  in  its  general  air,  and  quite  like 
it  in  the  character  of  its  population.  I  presume  I  must  have 
met  many  of  my  countrymen,  for  there  were  some  who  passed 
me  in  the  street  whom  I  could  have  sworn  to.  In  a  walk  to 
the  American  consul's,  (to  whose  polite  kindness  I,  as  well  as 
all  my  compatriots,  have  been  very  much  indebted,)  I  was 
lucky  enough  to  see  a  New  York  packet  drive  into  the  harbor 
under  full  sail — as  gallant  a  sight  as  you  would  wish  to  see. 
It  was  blowing  rather  stiffly,  and  she  ran  up  to  her  anchorage 
like  a  bird,  and  taking  in  her  canvass  with  the  speed  of  a 
man-ofwar,  was  lying  in  a  few  moments  with  her  head  to 
the  tide,  as  neat  and  as  tranquil  as  if  she  had  slept  for  the 
last  month  at  her  moorings.  I  could  feel  in  the  air  that  came 
ashore  from  her,  that  I  had  letters  on  board. 


Anxious  to  get  on  to  Cheshire,  where,  as  they  say  of  the 
mails,  I  had  been  due  some  days,  and  very  anxious  to  get  rid 
of  the  perfume  of  beer,  beefsteaks,  and  bad  soup,  with  which 
I  had  become  impregnated  at  the  inn,  I  got  embarked  in  an 
omnibus  at  noon,  and  was  taken  to  the  railway.      I  was  just 


1 30  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


in  time,  and  down  we  dived  into  the  long  tunnel,  emerging 
from  the  darkness  at  a  pace  that  made  my  hair  sensibly 
tighten  and  hold  on  with  apprehension.  Thirty  miles  in  the 
hour  is  pleasant  going  when  one  is  a  little  accustomed  to  it. 
It  gives  one  such  a  contempt  for  time  and  distance  !  The 
whizzing  past  of  the  return  trains,  going  in  the  other  direction 
with  the  same  velocity,  making  you  recoil  in  one  second,  and 
a  mile  off  the  next — ^was  the  only  thing  which,  after  a  few 
minutes,  I  did  not  take  to  very  kindly.  There  w-ere  near  a 
hundred  passengers,  most  of  them  precisely  the  class  of  Eng- 
lish which  we  see  in  our  country — the  fags  of  Manchester  and 
Birmingham — a  class,  I  dare  say,  honest  and  worthy,  but 
much  more  to  my  taste  in  their  own  country  than  mine. 

I  must  confess  to  a  want  of  curiosity  respecting  spinning- 
jennies.  Half  an  hour  of  Manchester  contented  me,  yet  in 
that  half  hour  I  was  cheated  to  the  amount  of  fourand-six- 
pence — unless  the  experience  was  worth  the  money.  Under 
a  sovereign  I  think  it  not  worth  while  to  lose  one's  temper, 
and  I  contented  myself  with  telling  the  man  (he  was  a  coach 
proprietor)  as  I  paid  him  the  second  time  for  the  same  thing 
in  the  course  of  twenty  minutes,  that  the  time  and  trouble  he 
must  have  had  in  bronzing  his  face  to  that  degree  of  impu- 
dence gave  him  some  title  to  the  money.  I  saw  some  pretty 
scenery  between  Manchester  and  my  destination,  and  having 
calculated  my  time  very  accurately,  I  was  set  down  at  the 

gates  of Hall,  as  the  dressing  bell  for  dinner  came  over 

the  park  upon  the  wind.     I  found  another  English  welcome^ 


A  TRIP  TO  SCOTLAND.  ;    131 

passed  three  week's  amid  the  pleasures  of  English  country 
life,  departed  as  before  with  regrets,  and  without  much  more 
incident  or  adventure  reached  London  on  the  first  of  Novem- 
Der,  and  established  myself  for  the  winter. 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  ENGLAND, 


Ship  Gladiator,  off  the  Isle  of  Wight, 
Evening  of  June  9thj  1839. 

The  bullet  which  preserves  the  perpendicular  of  my  cabin- 
larap  is  at  last  still,  I  congratulate  myself;  and  with  it  my 
optic  nerve  resumes  its  proper  and  steady  function.  The  va- 
grant tumblers,  the  peripatetic  teeth-brushes,  the  dancing 
stools,  the  sidling  wash-basins  and  et-ceteras,  have  returned  to 
a  steady  life.  The  creaking  bulkheads  cry  no  more.  I  sit  on 
a  trunk  which  will  not  run  away  with  me,  and  pen  and  paper 
look  up  into  my  face  with  their  natural  sobriety  and  attention. 
I  have  no  apology  for  not  writing  to  you,  except  want  of  event 
since  we  parted.  There  is  not  a  milestone  in  the  three  thou- 
sand four  hundred  miles  I  have  travelled.  "  Travelled  I"  said 
I.  I  am  as  unconscious  of  having  moved  from  the  wave  on 
whicli  you  left  mo  at  Staten  Island  as  the  prisoner  in  the  hulk. 

[132] 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  ENGLAND.  133 

I  have  pitched  forward  and  backward,  and  rolled  from  my 
left  cheek  to  my  right;  but  as  to  any  feeling  of  having  gone 
omcard  I  am  as  unconscious  of  it  as  a  lobster  backing  after 
the  ebb.  The  sea  is  a  dreary  vacuity,  in  which  he,  perhaps, 
who  was  ever  well  upon  it,  can  find  material  for  thought.  But 
for  one,  I  will  sell  at  sixpence  a  month,  all  copyhold  upon  so 
much  of  my  life  as  is  destined  "  to  the  deep,  the  blue,  the  black" 
(and  whatever  else  he  calls  it,)  of  my  friend  the  song- 
writer. 

Yet  there  are  some  moments  recorded,  first  with  a  sigh, 
which  we  find  afterward  copied  into  memory  with  a  smile. 
Here  and  there  a  thought  has  come  to  me  from  the  wave, 
snatched  listlessly  from  the  elements — here  and  there  a  word 
has  been  said  which  on  shore  should  have  been  wit  or  good 
feeling — here  and  there  a  "  good  morning,"  responded  to  with 
an  efibrt,  has  from  its  courtesy  or  heartiness,  left  an  impres- 
sion which  will  make  to-morrow's  parting  phrases  more  earn- 
est than  I  had  anticipated. — With  this  green  isle  to  windward 
and  the  smell  of  earth  and  flowers  coming  to  my  nostrils  once 
more,  I  begin  to  feel  an  interest  in  several  who  have  sailed 
with  me.  Humanity,  killed  in  me  invariably  by  salt  water, 
revives,  I  think,  with  this  breath  of  hawthorn. 

The  pilot  tells  us  that  the  Montreal,  which  sailed  ten  days 
before  us,  has  not  yet  passed  up  the  channel,  and  that  we  have 
brought  with  us  the  first  west  wind  they  have  had  in  many 
weeks.  The  sailors  do  not  know  what  to  say  to  this,  for  we 
had  four  parsons  on  board,  and,  by  all  sea-canons,  they  are 
invariable  Jonahs.  One  of  these  gentlemen,  by  the  way,  is  an 
abolitionist,  on  a  begging  crusade  for  a  school  devoted  to  the 


134  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


amalgam  of  color,  and  very  much  to  the  amusement  of  the 

passengers,  he  met  the  steward's  usual  demand  for  a  fee  with 

an  application  for  a  contribution  to  the  funds  of  his  society  ! 

His  expectations  from  British  sympathy  are  large,  for  he  is 

accompanied  by  a  lay  brother  "  used  to  keeping  accounts," 

whose  sole  errand  is  to  record  the  golden  results  of  his  friend's 

eloquence.     But  "  eight  bells"  warn  me  to  bed  ;   so  when  I 

have  recorded  the  good  qualities  of  the  Gladiator,  which  are 

man}^,  and  those  of  her  captain,   which  are  more,   I  will  put 

out  my  sea  lamp  for  the  last  time,  and  get  into  my  premonitory 

"  six  feet  by  two." 

*  *  *  *  *  *  * 

The  George  InUj  Portsmouth. — This  is  a  morning  in  which 
(under  my  circumstances)  it  would  be  difficult  not  to  be 
pleased  with  the  entire  world.  A  fair  day  in  June,  newly 
from  sea,  and  with  a  journey  of  seventy  miles  before  me  on  a 
swift  coach,  through  rural  England,  is  what  I  call  a  programme 
of  a  pleasant  day.  Determined  not  to  put  myself  in  the  way 
of  a  disappointment,  I  accepted,  without  the  slightest  hesita- 
tion, on  landing  at  the  wharf,  the  services  of  an  elderly  gentle- 
man in  shabby  black,  who  proposed  to  stand  between  me  and 
all  my  annoyances  of  the  morning.  He  was  to  get  my  bag- 
gage through  the  customs,  submit  for  me  to  all  the  inevitable 
impositions  of  tide  waiters,  secure  my  place  in  the  coach,  be- 
speak me  a  fried  sole  and  green  peas,  and  sum  up  his  services, 
all  in  one  short  phrase  of/,  s.  d.  So  putting  my  temper  into 
my  pocket,  and  making  up  my  mind  to  let  roguery  take  the 
wall  of  me  for  one  day  unchallenged,  I  mounted  to  the  grassy 
ramparts  of  the  town  to  walk  oflf  the  small  remainder  of  sea- 
air  from  my  stomach,   and  admire  everything  that  came  in 


SECOND   VISIT  TO  ENGLAND.  I35 

my  way.  I  would  recommend  to  all  newly  landed  passengers 
from  the  packets  to  step  up  and  accept  of  the  sympathy  of  the 
oaks  of  the  "  kings  bastion"  in  their  disgust  for  the  sea.  Those 
sensible  trees,  leaning  toward  the  earth,  and  throwing  out  their 
boughs  as  usual  to  the  landward,  present  to  the  seaward  expo 
sure  a  turned-up  and  gnarled  look  of  nausea  and  disgust 
which  is  as  expressive  to  the  commonest  observer  as  a  sick 
man's  first  look  at  his  bolus.  1  have  great  affinity  with  trees, 
and  1  believe  implicitly,  that  what  is  disagreeable  to  the  tree 
can  not  be  pleasant  to  the  man.  The  salt  air  is  not  so  corro- 
sive here  as  in  the  Mediterranean,  where  the  leaves  of  the  olive 
are  eaten  off  entirely  on  the  side  toward  the  sea  ;  but  it  is  quite 
enough  to  make  a  sensible  tree  turn  up  its  nose,  and  in  that 
attitude  stands  most  expressively  every  oak  on  the  "  king's 
bastion."  ♦ 

The  first  few  miles  out  of  Portsmouth  form  one  long  alley 
of  ornamented  cottages — wood-bine  creeping  and  roses  flower- 
ing over  them  all.  If  there  were  but  two  between  Portsmouth 
and  London — two  even  of  the  meanest  we  saw — a  traveller 
from  any  other  land  would  think  it  worth  his  while  to  de- 
scribe them  minutely.  As  there  are  two  thousand  (more  or 
less,)  they  must  pass  with  a  bare  mention.  Yet  I  became 
conscious  of  a  new^  feeling  in  seeing  these  rural  paramses  ;  and 
I  record  it  as  fhe  first  point  in  which  I  find  myself  worse  for 
having  become  a  "  dweller  in  the  shade."  I  was  envious. 
Formerly,  in  passing  a  tasteful  retreat,  or  a  fine  manor,  I 
could  say,  "  What  a  bright  lawn  !  What  a  trim  and  fragrant 
hedge  !  What  luxuriant  creepers  !  I  congratulate  their  for- 
tunate owner !"     Now  it  is,  "  How  I  wish  I  had  that  hedge 


136  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

at  Glenmary  !  How  I  envy  these  people  their  shrubs,  trellices, 
and  flowers !"  I  wonder  not  a  little  how  the  English  Emi- 
grant can  make  a  home  among  our  unsightly  stumps  that  can 
ever  breed  a  forgetfulness  of  all  these  refined  ruralities. 

After  the  jQrst  few  miles,  I  discovered  that  the  two  windows 
of  the  coach  were  very  limited  frames  for  the  rapid  succes- 
sion of  pictures  presented  to  my  eye,  and  changing  places  with 
"William,  who  was  on  the  top  of  the  coach,  I  found  myself  be- 
tween two  tory  politicians  setting  forth  to  each  other  most  elo- 
quently the  mal-administration  of  the  whigs  and  the  queen's 
mismanagement.  As  I  was  two  months  behind  the  English 
news  I  listened  with  some  interest.  They  made  out  to  their 
own  satisfaction  that  the  queen  was  a  silly  girl ;  that  she  had 
been  caught  in  a  decided  fib  about  Sir  Robert  Peel's  exactions 
with  respect  to  the  household  ;  and  one  of  the  Jeremiahs,  who 
seemed  to  be  a  *turdy  grazier,  said  that  "  in  'igh  life  the  queen- 
dowager's  'ealth  was  now  received  uniwersally  with  three 
times  three,  while  Victoria's  was  drank  in  solemn  silence." 
Her  majesty  received  no  better  treatment  at  the  hands  of  a 
whis:  on  the  other  end  of  the  seat ;  and  as  we  whirled  under 
the  long  park  fence  of  Claremont,  the  country  palace  of  Leo- 
pold and  the  Princess  Charlotte,  he  took  the  pension  of  the 
Belgian  king  for  the  burden  of  his  lamentation,  and,  between 
whig  and  tory,  England  certainly  seemed  to  be  in  a  bad 
way.  This  Claremont,  it  will  be  remembered  by  the 
readers  of  D'Israeli's  novels,  is  the  original  of  the  picture  of 
the  luxurious  maison  de  plaisanccy  drawn  in  •'  the  Young 
Duke." 

We  got  glimpses  of  the  old  palace  at   Esher,  of  Hampton 
Court,  of  Pitt's  country  seat  at  Putney,  and  of  Jane  Forter's 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  ENGLAND.         ^^^J 


cottage  at  Esher,  and  in  tlie  seventh  hour  from  leaving  Ports- 
mouth (seventy-four  miles)  we  found  the  vehicles  tliickening, 
the  omnibuses  passing,  the  blue-coated  policemen  occurring  at 
short  intervals,  and  the  roads  delightfully  watered — symptoms 
of  suburban  London.  Wo  skirted  the  privileged  paling  of 
Hyde  Park ;  and  I  could  see,  over  the  rails,  the  flying  and  gay 
colored  equipages,  the  dandy  horsemen,  the  pedestrian  ladies 
followed  by  footmen  with  their  gold  sticks,  the  fashionable 
throng,  in  short,  which,  separated  by  an  iron  barrier  from  all 
contact  with  unsightliness  and  vulgarity,  struts  its  hour  in  this 
green  cage  of  aristocracy. 

Around  the  triumphal  arch  opposite  the  duke  of  Welling- 
ton's was  assembled  a  large  crowd  of  carriages  and  horsemen. 
The  queen  was  coming  from  Buckingham  palace  through 
the  Green  park,  and  they  were  waiting  for  a  glimpse  of  Her 
Majesty  on  horseback.  The  Regulator  whirled  mercilessly  on  ; 
but  far  down,  through  the  long  avenues  of  trees,  I  could  see 
a  movement  of  scarlet  liveries,  and  a  party  coming  rapidly  to- 
ward us  on  horseback.  We  missed  the  Queen  by  a  couj:)le  of 
minutes. 

It  was  just  the  hour  when  all  London  is  abroad,  and  Picca- 
dilly was  one  long  cavalcade  of  splendid  equipages  on  their 
way  to  the  park.  I  remembered  many  a  face,  and  many  a 
crest ;  but  either  the  faces  had  beautified  in  my  memory,  or 
three  years  had  done  time's  pitiless  work  on  them  all.  Near 
Devonshire  house  I  saw,  fretting  behind  the  slow-moving  press 
of  vehicle,  a  pair  of  magnificent  and  fiery  blood  horses,  drawing 
a  coach,  which,  though  quite  new,  was  of  a  color  and  picked 
out  with  a  peculiar  stripe  that  was  fixmiliar  to  my  eye.  The 
next  glance  convinced  me  that  the  livery   was   that  of  Lady 


1 38         FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


Blessington ;  but,  for  the  light  chariot  in  which  she  used  to 
drive,  here  was  a  stately  coach — for  the  one  tall  footman,  two 
— for  the  plain  but  elegant  harness,  a  sumptuous  and  superb 
caparison — the  whole  turn-out  on  a  scale  of  splendor  unequal- 
led by  anything  around  us.  Another  moment  decided  the 
doubt — for  as  we  came  against  the  carriage,  following,  our- 
selves, an  embarrassed  press  of  vehicles,  her  ladyship  appeared, 
leaning  back  in  the  corner  with  her  wrists  crossed,  the  same 
in  the  grace  of  her  attitude  and  the  elegance  of  her  toilet,  but 
stouter,  more  energetic,  and  graver  in  the  expression  of  her 
face,  than  I  ever  remembered  to  have  seen  her.  From  the  top 
of  the  stage  coach  I  looked,  unseen,  directly  down  upon  her, 
and  probably  got,  by  chance,  a  daylight  and  more  correct  view 
of  her  countenance  than  I  should  obtain  in  a  year  of  opera  and 
drawing-room  observation.  Tired  and  dusty,  we  were  turned 
from  hotel  to  hotel,  all  full  and  overflowing ;  and  finding  at  last 
a  corner  at  Ragget's  in  Dover  street,  we  dressed,  dined,  and 
posted  to  "Woolwich.     Unexpected  and  mournful  news  closed 

our  first  day  in  England  with  tears. 

*  *  ****** 

I  drove  up  to  London  the  second  day  after  our  arrival,  and 
having  a  little  "  Grub-street"  business,  made  my  way  to  the 
the  purlieus  of  publishers,  Paternoster  row.  If  you  could  ima- 
gine a  paper- mine,  with  a  very  deep  cut  shaft  laid  open  to  the 
surface  of  the  earth,  you  might  get  some  idea  of  Ivy  lane. 
One  walks  along  through  its  dim  subterranean  light,  with  no 
idea  of  breathing  the  proper  atmosphere  of  day  and  open  air. 
A  strong  smell  of  new  books  in  the  nostrils,  and  one  long 
stripe  of  blue  sky  much  farther  oflf  than  usual,  are  the  predono- 
inant  impressions. 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  ENGLAND.  139 


From  the  dens  of.the  publishers,  I  wormed  my  way  through 
the  crowds  of  Cheapside  and  the  Strand,  toward  that  part  of 
London,  which,  as  Horace  Smith  says,  is  "  open  at  the  top." 
Something  in  the  way  of  a  ship's  fender,  to  save  the  hips  and 
elbows  would,  sell  well,  I  should  think,  to  pedestrians  in  Lon- 
don. What  crowds,  to  be  sure !  On  a  Sunday,  in  New 
York,  when  all  the  churches  are  pouring  forth  their  congrega- 
tions at  the  same  moment,  you  have  seen  a  faint  image  of  the 
Strand.  The  style  of  the  hack  cabriolets  is  very  much  chang- 
ed since  I  was  in  London.  The  passenger  sits  about  as  high 
lip  from  the  ground  as  he  would  in  a  common  chair — the  body 
of  the  vehicle  suspended  from  the  axle  instead  of  being  places! 
upon  it,  and  the  wheels  very  high.  The  driver's  seat  would 
suit  a  sailor,  for  it  answers  to  the  ship's  tiller,  well  astern. 
He  whips  over  the  passenger's  head.  I  saw  one  or  two  pri- 
vate vehicles  built  on  this  principle,  certainly  one  of  safety, 
though  they  have  something  the  beauty  of  a  prize  hog. 

The  new  National  Gallery  in  Trafalgar  square,  not  finished 
when  I  left  England,  opened  upon  me  as  I  entered  Charing 
Cross,  with  what  I  could  not  but  feel  was  a  very  fine  effect, 
though  critically,  its  "  pepper-boxity"  is  not  very  creditable  to 
the  architect.  Fine  old  Northumberland  house,  with  its  stern 
lion  atop  on  one  side,  the  beautiful  Club  house  on  the  other, 
St.  Martin's  noble  church  and  the  Gallery — with  such  a  fine 
opening  in  the  very  cm-  cordium  of  London,  could  not  fail  of 
producing  a  noble  metropolitan  view. 

The  street  in  front  of  the  gallery  wq^  crowded  with  car- 
riages, showing  a  throng  of  visiters  within  ;  and  mounting  the 
imposing  steps,  (the  loftiness  of  the  vestibule  dropping  plump 
as  I  paid  my  shilling  entrance,)  I  found  myself  in  a  hall  whose 


J  40  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

extending  lines  of  pillars  ran  through  the  entire  length  of  the 
building,  offering  to  the  eye  a  truly  noble  perspective.  Off 
from  this  hall,  to  the  right  and  left,  lay  the  galleries  of  antique 
and  modern  paintings,  and  the  latter  were  crowded  with  the 
fair  and  fashionable  mistresses  of  the  equipages  without. 
You  will  not  care  to  be  bothered  with  criticism  on  pictures, 
and  mine  vvras  a  cursory  glance — but  a  delicious,  full-length 
portrait  of  a  noble  lady  by  Grant,  whose  talent  is  now  making 
some  noise  in  London,  a  glorious  painting  of  Van  Amburgh 
among  his  lions  by  Edwin  Landseer,  and  a  portrait  of  Miss 
Pardoe  in  a  Turkish  costume  with  her  pretty  feet  coiled  under 
her  on  a  Persian  carpet,  by  Pickersgill,  are  among  those  I  re- 
member. I  found  a  great  many  acquaintances  in  the  gallery ; 
and  I  was  sitting  upon  a  bench  with  a  lady,  who  pointed  out 
to  me  a  portrait  of  Lord  Lyndhurst  in  his  chancellor's  wig 
and  robes — a  very  fine  picture  of  a  man  of  sixty  or  thereabouts. 
Directly  between  me  and  it,  as  I  looked,  sidled  a  person  with 
his  back  to  me,  cutting  off  my  view  very  provokingly.  "  When 
this  dandy  gets  out  of  the  way  with  his  eyeglass,"  said  I,  "  I 
shall  be  able  to  see  the  picture."  My  friend  smiled.  "  Who 
do  you  take  the  dandy  to  be  ?"  It  was  a  well  formed  man, 
dressed  in  the  top  of  the  fashion  with  very  straight  back,  curling 
brown  hair,  and  the  look  of  perhaps  thirty  years  of  age.  As 
he  passed  on  and  I  caught  his  profile,  I  B&vf  it  was  Lord 

Lyndhurst  himself 

•  «  •  «  • 

I  had  not  seen  Taglioni  since  the  first  representation  of  the 
Sylphide,  eight  or  nine  years  ago  at  Paris.  Last  night  I  was 
at  the  opera,  and  saw  her  in  La  Gitana ;  and  except  that  her 
limbs  are  the  least  in  the  world  rounder  and  fuller,  eho  is,   in 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  ENGLAND. 


141 


person,  absolutely  unchanged.  I  can  appreciate  now,  better 
than  I  could  then  (when  opera  dancing  was  new  to  me,)  what 
it  is  that  gives  this  divine  woman  the  right  to  her  proud  title 
of  ia  Deesse  de  la  Danse.  It  is  easy  for  the  Ellslers  and 
Augusta,  and  others  who  are  said  to  be  only  second  to  her,  to 
copy  her  flying  steps,  and  even  to  produce  by  elasticity  of 
limb,  the  beautiful  effect  of  touching  the  earth,  like  a  thing 
afloat,  without  being  indebted  to  it  for  the  rebound.  ButTag- 
lioni  iAone  finishes  the  step,  or  the  pirouette,  or  the  arrowy 
bound  over  the  scene,  as  calmly,  as  accurately,  as  faultlessly, 
as  she  begins  it.  She  floats  out  of  a  pirouette  as  if  instead  of 
being  made  giddy,  she  had  been  lulled  by  it  into  a  smiling 
and  child-like  dream,  and  instead  of  trying  herself  and  her 
aplomb  (as  is  seen  all  other  dancers,  by  their  effort  to  recover 
composure,)  it  had  been  the  moment  when  she  had  rallied  and 
been  refreshed.  The  smile,  so  expressive  of  enjoyment  in  her 
own  grace,  which  steals  over  Taglioni's  )ips  when  she  closes 
a  difficult  step,  seems  communicated  in  an  indefinable  languor, 
to  her  limbs.  You  cannot  fancy  her  fatigued  when,  with  her 
peculiar  softness  of  motion,  she  courtesies  to  the  applause  of 
an  enchanted  audience,  and  walks  lightly  away.  You  are  never 
apprehensive  that  she  has  undertaken  too  much.  You  never 
detect  as  you  do  in  all  other  dancers,  defects  slurred  over 
adroitly  and  movements  that,  from  their  anticipating  the  music 
of  the  ballet,  are  known  by  the  critical  eye  to  cover  some  flaw 
in  the  step,  from  giddiness  or  loss  of  balance.  But  oh  what  a 
new  relation  bears  the  music  to  the  dance,  when  this  spirit  of 
grace  replaces  her  companions  in  the  ballet !  "Whether  the 
motion  seems  born  of  the  music,  or  the  music  floats  out  of  her 


1 42  FAMOUS  PERSONS  ANJ)  PLACES. 


dreamy  motion,  the  enchanted  gazer  might  be  almost  em  bar- 
rassed  to  know. 

In  the  new  ballet  of  La  Gitana,  the  music  is  based  upon 
the  Mazurka.  The  story  is  the  old  one  of  the  child  of  a 
grandee  of  Spain,  stolen  by  gipsies,  and  recovered  by  chance 
in  Russia.  The  gradual  stealing  over  her  of  music  she  bad 
heard  in  her  childhood  was  the  finest  piece  of  pantomimic  act- 
ing I  ever  saw.  But  there  is  one  dance,  the  Cachucha^  intro- 
duced at  the  close  of  the  ballet,  in  which  Taglioni  has  en- 
chanted the  world  anew.  It  could  only  be  done  by  herself; 
for  there  is  a  succession  of  flying  movements  expressive  of 
alarm,  in  the  midst  of  which  she  aHghts  and  stands  poised  up- 
on the  points  of  her  feet,  with  a  look  over  her  shoulder  of 
jierte  and  animation  possible  to  no  other  face,  I  think,  in  the 
world.  It  was  like  a  deer  standing  with  expanded  nostril  and 
neck  uplifted  to  its  loftiest  height,  at  the  first  scent  of  his  pur- 
suers in  the  breeze.  \l  was  the  very  soul  of  swiftness  embodied 
in  a  look  !     How  can  I  describe  it  to  you  1 

%  %  if.  Hi  «  *  ♦ 

My  last  eight  hours  have  been  spent  between  Bedlam  and 
the  opera — one  of  those  antipodal  contrasts  of  which  London 
hfe  affords  so  many.  Thanks  to  God,  and  to  the  Howards 
who  have  arizen  in  our  time,  a  madhouse  is  no  longer  the  heart- 
rending scene  that  it  used  tx)  be ;  and  Bedlam,  though  a  place 
of  melancholy  imprisonment,  is  as  cheering  a  spectacle  to  the 
humane  as  imprisonment  can  be  made  by  care  and  kindness. 
Of  the  three  hundred  persons  who  are  inmates  of  its  wards, 
the  greater  part  seemed  quiet  and  content,  some  playing  at 
ball  in  the  spacious  court-yards,  some  lying  on  the  grass,  and 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  ENGLAND.  I43 

some  working  voluntarily  at  a  kind  of  wheel  arranged  for 
raising  water  to  their  rooms. 

On  the  end  of  a  bench  in  one  of  the  courts,  quite  apart 
from  the  other  patients,  sat  the  youth  who  came  up  two  hun- 
dred miles  from  the  country  to  marry  the  queen  !  You  will 
remember  the  story  of  his  forcing  himself  into  Buckingham 
palace.  He  was  a  stout,  sandy-haired,  sad-looking  young 
man,  of  perhaps  twenty-four;  and  with  his  arms  crossed,  and 
his  eyes  on  the  ground,  he  sat  like  a  statue,  never  moving 
even  an  eyelash  while  we  were  there.  There  was  a  very  gentle- 
manlike man  working  at  the  waterwheel,  or  rather  walking 
round  with  his  hand  on  the  bar,  in  a  gait  that  would  have 
suited  the  most  finished  exquisite  of  a  drawing  room — Mr. 
Davis,  who  shot  (I  think)  at  Lord  Londonderry.  Then  in  an 
upper  room  we  saw  the  Captain  Brown  who  shook  his  fist  in 
the  queen's  face  when  she  went  to  the  city — really  a  most 
officer-like  and  handsome  fellow ;  and  in  the  next  room  poor 
old  Hatfield  who  shot  at  George  the  Third,  and  has  been  in 
Bedlam  for  forty  years—quite  sane  !  He  was  a  gallant  dra- 
goon, and  his  face  is  seamed  with  scars  got  in  battle  before 
his  crime.  He  employs  himself  with  writing  poetry  on  the 
death  of  his  birds  and  cats  whom  he  has  outlived  in  prison — 
all  the  society  he  has  had  in  this  long  and  weary  imprisonment. 
He  received  us  very  courteously  ;  and  called  our  attention  to 
his  favorite  canary,  showed  us  his  poetry,  and  all  with  a  sad, 
mild,  subdued  resignation  that  guite  moved  me. 

In  the  female  wards  I  saw  nothing  very  striking,  except 
one  very  noble-looking  woman  who  was  standing  at  her  grated 
window,  entirely  absorbed  in  reading  the  Bible.  Her  face 
expressed  the   most   heart-rending  melancholy   I  had    ever 


144  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

witnessed.  She  has  been  for  years  under  the  terrible 
belief  that  she  has  committed  "  the  uopardonable  sin,"  and 
though  quiet  all  the  day,  her  agony  at  night  becomes  horrible. 
What  a  comment  on  a  much-practiced  mode  of  preaching  the 
mild  and  forgiving  religion  of  our  Savior  ! 

As  I  was  leaving  one  of  the  wards,  a  young  woman  of  nine- 
teen or  twenty  came  up  to  me  with  a  very  polite  courtesy  and 
said,  *'  Will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  have  me  released  from  this 
dreadful  place  ?"  "  I  am  afraid  I  can  not,"  said  I.  ''  Then," 
sfie  replied  laying  her  hand  on  my  arm,  with  a  most  appealing 
earnestness,  "  perhaps  you  will  on  Monday — you  know  I've 
nothing  to  pack  !"  The  matron  here  interposed,  and  led  her 
away,  but  she  kept  her  eyes  on  us  till  the  door  closed.  She 
was  confined  there  for  the  murder  of  her  child. 

We  visited  the  kitchens,  wash-houses,  bakery,  &c.,  &c. — all 
clean,  orderly,  and  admirable,  and  left  our  names  on  the  visiters' 
book,  quite  of  the  opinion  of  a  Frenchman  who  was  there  just 
before  us,  and  who  had  written  under  his  own  name  this 
expressive  praise  : — "/'ai  visUe  certains  palais  moins  beaux  ct 
moins  bien  entretenus  que  cette  'iuaison  de  lafoliey 

Two  hours  after  I  was  listening  to  the  overture  of  La  Cen- 
erentola,  and  watching  the  entrance,  to  the  opera,  of  the  gay, 
the  celebrated,  and  the  noble.  In  the  house  I  had  left,  night 
had  brought  with  it  (as  it  does  always  to  the  insane)  a  mad- 
dening and  terrific  exaltation  of  brain  and  spirit — but  how  dif- 
ferent from  that  exaltation  of  brain  and  spirit  sought  at  the 
same  hour  by  creatures  of  the  same  human  family,  at  the  opera  ! 
It  was  diflScult  not  to  wonder  at  the  distribution  of  allotments 
to  mankind.  In  a  box  on  the  left  of  me  sat  the  Queen,  keep- 
ing time  with  a  fan  to  the  delicious  singing  of  Pauline  Garcia, 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  ENGLAND.  I45 

her  favorite  minister  standing  behind  her  chair,  and  her  maids 
of  honor  around — herself  the  smiling,  youthful,  and  admired 
Sovereign  of  the  most  powerful  nation  on  earth  !  I  thought 
of  the  poor  girl  in  her  miserable  cell  at  Bedlam  imploring 
release. 

The  Queen's  face  has  thinned  and  grown  more  oval  since  I 
saw  her  at  a  drawing  room  four  years  ago,  as  Princess  Vic- 
toria. She  has  been  compelled  to  ?AzV27i;  since  then,  and  such 
exigencies,  in  all  stations  of  life,  work  out  the  expression  of 
the  face.  She  has  now  what  I  should  pronounce  a  decidedly 
intellectual  countenance,  a  little  petulant  withal  when  she 
turns  to  speak,  but  on  the  whole  quite  beautiful  enough  for 
a  virgin  queen.  No  particular  attention  seemed  paid  to  her 
by  the  audience.  She  was  dressed  less  gayly  than  many 
others  around  her.  Her  box  was  at  the  left  side  of  the  house 
undistinguished  by  any  mark  of  royalty,  and  a  stranger  would 
never  have  suspected  her  presence. 

Pauline  Garcia  sang  better  than  I  thought  it  possible  for 
any  one  to  sing  after  Malibran  was  dead.  She  has  her  sister's 
look  about  the  forehead  and  eyes,  and  all  her  sister's  soul  and 
passionateness  in  her  style  of  singing.  Her  face  is  otherwise 
very  plain,  but,  plain  as  it  is,  the  opera-going  public  prefer  her 
already  to  the  beautiful  and  more  powerful  Grisi.  The  latter 
long  triumphant  prima  donna  is  said  to  be  very  unhappy 
at  her  eclipse  by  this  new  favorite ;  and  it  is  curious 
enough  to  hear  the  hundred  and  one  faults  found  in  the  de- 
clining songstress  by  those  who  once  would  not  admit  that 
she  could  be  transcended  on  earth.  A  very  celebrated  per- 
son, whom  I  remembered,  when  in  London  before,  giving 
Grisi  the  most  unqualified  eulogy,  assured  the  gay  admirers  in 


146  '  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


her  box  last  night  that  she  had  always  said  that  Grisi  liad 

nothing  but  lungs  and  fine  eyes.     She  was  a  great  healthy 

Italian  girl,  and  could  sing  in  tune ;  but  soul  or  sentiment 

she  never  had  !     Poor  Grisi !     Hers  is  the  lot  of  all  who  are 

so  unhappy  as  to  have  been  much  admired.     *'  Le  monde  ne 

hait  rien  autant  que  ses  idoles  qiuind  Us  sont  a  terre^'*  said  the 

wise  La  Bruyere. 

******♦♦ 

Some  of  the  most  delightful  events  in  one's  travels  are 
those  which  afford  the  least  materiel  for  description,  and  such 
is  our  sejour  of  a  few  days  at  the  vicarage  of  B— — .  It 
was  a  venerable  old  house  with  pointed  gables,  elaborate  and 
pointed  windows,  with  panes  of  glass  of  the  size  of  the  palm 
of  the  hand,  low  doors,  narrow  staircases,  all  sorts  of  unsus- 
pected rooms  and  creepers  outside,  trellised  and  trained  to 
every  corner  and  angle.  Then  there  was  the  modern  wing, 
with  library  and  dining  room,  large  windows,  marble  fireplaces, 
and  French  paper  ;  and  in  going  from  your  bedroom  to  break- 
fast you  might  fancy  yourself  stepping  from  Queen  Eliza- 
beth's time  to  Queen  Victoria's.  A  high  hedge  of  holly 
divided  the  smoothly-shaven  lawn  from  the  churchyard,  and  in 
the  midst  of  the  moss-grown  headstones  stood  a  gray  old 
»church  with  four  venerable  towers,  one  of  the  most  pictu- 
resque and  beautiful  specimens  of  the  old  English  architect- 
ure that  I  have  ever  seen.  The  whole  group,  church,  vicar- 
age, and  a  small  hamlet  of  vine  covered  and  embowered  stone 
cottages,  lay  in  the  lap  of  a  gently  rising  sweep  of  hills,  and 
all  around  were  spread  landscapes  of  the  finished  and  serene 
character  peculiar  to  England — rich  fields  framed  in  flowering 
hedges,   clumps  of  forest  trees    glimpses  of  distant  parks, 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  ENGLAND.  147 


country  seats,  and  village  spires,  and  on  the  horizon  a  line  of 
mist-clad  hills,  scarce  ever  more  distinct  than  the  banks  of 
low-lying  clouds  retiring  after  a  thunder  storm  in  America. 

Early  on  Sunday  morning  we  were  awakened  by  the  mel- 
ody of  the  bells  in  the  old  towers ;  and  with  brief  pauses  be- 
tween the  tunes,  they  were  played  upon  most  musically,  till 
the  hour  for  the  morning  services.  We  have  little  idea  in 
America  of  the  perfection  to  which  the  chiming  of  bells  is  car- 
ried in  England.  In  the  towers  of  this  small  rural  church  are 
hung  eight  bells  of  different  tone,  and  the  tunes  played  on 
them  by  the  more  accomplished  ringers  of  the  neighboring 
hamlet  are  varied  endlessly.  I  lay  and  listened  to  the  simple 
airs  as  they  died  away  over  the  valley,  with  a  pleasure  I  can 
scarcely  express.  The  morning  was  serene  and  bright,  the 
perfume  of  the  clematis  and  jasmine  flowers  at  the  window 
penetrated  to  the  curtains  of  my  bed,  and  Sunday  seemed  to 
have  dawned  with  the  audible  worship  and  palpable  incense 
of  nature.  We  were  told  at  breakfast  that  the  chimes  had 
been  unusually  merry,  and  were  a  comphment  to  ourselves, 
the  villagers  always  expressing  thus  their  congratulations  on 
the  arrival  of  guests  at  the  vicarage.  The  compliment  was 
repeated  between  services,  and  a  very  long  peal  rang  in  the 
twilight — our  near  relationship  to  the  vicar's  family  authorizing 
a  very  special  rejoicing. 

The  interior  of  the  church  was  very  ancient  looking  and 
rough,  the  pews  of  unpainted  oak,  and  the  massive  stone  walls 
simply  whitewashed.  The  congregation  was  small,  perhaps 
fifty  persons,  and  the  men  were  (with  two  exceptions)  dressed 
in  russet  carters'  frocks,  and  most  of  them  in  leather  leggins. 
The  children  sat  on  low  benches  placed  in  the  centre  of  the  one 


148  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


aisle,  and  the  boys,  like  their  fathers,  were  in  smock  frocks  of 
homespun,  their  heavy  shoes  shod  with  iron  like  horses'  hoofs, 
and  their  little  legs  buttoned  up  in  the  impenetrable  gaiters  of 
coarse  leather.  They  looked,  men  and  boys,  as  if  they  were 
intended  to  wear  but  one  suit  in  this  world. 

I  w^as  struck  with  the  solemnity  of  the  service,  and  the  dec- 
orous attention  of  men,  women,  and  children,  to  the  responses. 
rt  was  a  beautiful  specimen  of  simple  and  pastoral  worship. 
Each  family  had  the  name  of  their  farm  or  place  of  residence 
printed  on  the  back  of  the  pew,  with  the  number  of  seats  to 
which  they  were  entitled,  probably  in  proportion  to  their  tithes. 
The  "  hving"  is  worth,  if  I  remember  right,  not  much  over  a 
hundred  pounds — an  insuflBcient  sum  to  support  so  luxurious 
a  vicarage  as  is  appended  to  it ;  but,  happily  for  the  people, 
the  vicar  chances  to  be  a  man  of  fortune,  and  he  unites  in  his 
excellent  Character  the  exemplary  pastor  with  the  physician 

and  lord  of  the  manor.     I  left  B with   the  conviction 

that  if  peace,  contentment,  and  happiness,  inhabit  one  spot 
more  than  all  others  in  a  world  whose  allotments  are  so  diffi- 
cult to  estimate,  it  is  the  vicarage  in  the  bosom  of  that  rural 

upland. 

*  *  ****** 

We  left  B at  twelve  in  the  Brighton  "  Age" — the 

"  swell  coach"  of  England.     We  were  to  dine  thirty  miles 

nearer  London,  at Park,  and  we  did  the  distance  in 

exactly  three  hours,  including  a  stop  of  fifteen  minutes  to  dine. 
We  are  abused  by  all  travellers  for  our  alacrity  in  dining  on 
the  road ;  but  what  stage  coach  in  the  United  States  ever 
limited  its  dining  time  to  fifteen  minutes,  and  what  American 
dinner  of  roast,  pastry,  and  cheese,  was  ever  dispatched  so 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  ENGLAND.  j^g 


briefly  ?  Yet  the  travellers  to  Brighton  are  of  the  better  class ; 
and  whose  who  were  my  fellow  passengers  the  day  I  refer  to 
were  particularly  well  dressed  and  gentlemanly — yet  all  of 
them  achieved  a  substantial  dinner  of  beef,  pudding,  and  cheese, 
paid  their  bills,  and  drained  their  glass  of  porter,  within  the 
quarter  of  an  hour.  John  Bull's  blindness  to  the  beam  in  his 
own  eye  is  perhaps  owing  to  the  fact  that  this  hasty  meal  is 
sometimes  called  a  "  lunch  !" 

The  two  places  beside  our  own  in  the  inside  were  occupied 
by  a  lady  and  her  maid  and  two  children — an  interpretation 
of  number  two  to  which  I  would  not  have  agreed  if  I  could 
have  helped  it.  "We  cannot  •  always  tell  at  first  sight  what 
will  be  most  amusing,  however ;  and  the  child  of  two  years, 
who  sprawled  over  my  rheumatic  knees  with  her  mother's  per- 
mission, thereby  occasioning  on  my  part  a  most  fixed  look  out 
of  the  window,  furnished  me  with  a  curious  bit  of  observation. 
At  one  of  the  commons  we  passed,  the  children  running  out 
from  a  gipsy  encampment  flung  bunches  of  heath  flowers  into 
the  coach,  which  the  little  girl  appropriated,  and  commenced 
presenting  rather  graciously  to  her  mother,  the  maid,  and  Mrs. 
W.,  all  of  whom  received  them  with  smiles  and  thanks.  Hav- 
ing rather  a  sulky  face  of  my  own  when  not  particularly  called 
on  to  be  pleased,  the  child  omitted  me  for  a  long  time  in  her 
distributions.  At  last,  after  collecting  and  redistributing  the 
flowers  for  above  an  hour,  she  grew  suddenly  grave,  laid  the 
heath  all  out  upon  her  lap,  selected  the  largest  and  brightest 
flowers,  and  made  them  into  a  nosegay.  My  attention  was 
attracted  by  the  seriousness  of  the  child's  occupation  ;  and  I 
w^as  watching  her  without  thinking  my  notice  observed,  when 
she  raised  her  eyes  to  me  timidly,  turned  her  new  boquet  over 


j50  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

and  over,  and  at  last,  with  a  blush,  deeper  than  I  ever  saw 
before  upon  a  child,  placed  the  flowers  in  my  hand  and  hid 
her  face  in  her  mother's  bosom.  My  sulkiness  gave  way,  of 
course,  and  the  little  coquette's  pleasure  in  her  victory  was 
excessive.  For  the  remainder  of  the  journey,  those  who  had 
given  her  their  smiles  too  readily  were  entirely  neglected,  and 
all  her  attentions  were  showered  upon  the  only  one  she  had 
found  it  difficult  to  please.  I  thought  it  as  pretty  a  specimen 
of  the  ruling  passion  strong  in  baby-hood  as  I  ever  saw.  It 
was  a  piece  of  finished  coquetry  in  a  child  not  old  enough  to 
speak  plain. 

The  coachman  of"  the  Age"  was  a  young  man  of  perhaps 
thirty,  who  is  understood  to  have  run  through  a  considerable 
fortune,  and  drives  for  a  living — but  he  was  not  at  all  the  sort 
of  looking  person  you  would  fancy  for  a  "  swell  whip."  He 
drove  beautifully,  helped  the  passengers  out  and  in,  lifted  their 
baggage,  &c.,  very  handily,  but  evidently  shunned  notice,  and 
had  no  desire  to  chat  with  the  "  outsides."  The  excessive 
difficulty  in  England  of  finding  any  clean  way  of  making  a 
living  after  the  initiatory  age  is  passed — a  difficulty  which  re- 
duced gentlemen  feel  most  keenly — probably  forced  this  per- 
son  as  it  has  others  to  take  up  a  vocation  for  which  the  world 
fortunately  finds  an  excuse  in  eccentricity.  He  touches  his 
hat  for  the  half  crown  or  shilling,  although  probably  if  it  were 
oflfered  to  him  when  the  whip  was  out  of  his  hand  he  would 
knock  the  giver  down  for  his  impertinence.  I  may  as  well 
record  here,  by  the  way,  for  the  benefit  of  those  who  may  wish 
to  know  a  comparison  between  the  expense  of  travelling  here 
and  at  home,  for  two  inside  places  for  thirty  miles  the  coach 
fare  was  two  pounds,  and  the  coachman's  foe  five  shillings,  or 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  ENGLAND. 


161 


half  a-crown  each  inside.     To  get  from  the  post  town  to  

Park  (two  miles)  cost  me  fiveand-sixpence  for  a  "  fly,"  so  that 
for  thirty -two  miles  travel  I  paid  21.  10s.  6d.,  a  little  more  than 
twelve  dollars. 

And  speaking  of  vocations,  it  would  be  a  useful  lesson  to 
some  of  our  ambitious  youths  to  try  a  beginning  at  getting  a 
living  in  England.  I  was  never  at  all  aware  of  the  diflBculty 
of  finding  even  bread  and  salt  for  a  young  man  till  I  had 
occasion  lately  to  endeavor  to  better  the  condition  of  a  servant 
of  my  own — a  lad  who  has  been  with  me  four  or  five  years, 
and  whose  singular  intelligence,  good  principle  and  high  self- 
improvement,  fitted  him,  I  thought,  for  any  confidential  trust 
or  place  whatever.*  His  own  ideas,  too  (I  thought,  not  un- 
reasonably,) had  become  somewhat  sublimated  in  America, 
and  he  was  unwilling  to  continue  longer  as  a  servant.  He 
went  home  to  his  mother,  a  working  woman  of  London,  and  I 
did  my  utmost,  the  month  I  was  in  town,  inquiring  among  all 
classes  of  my  friends,  advertising,  &c.,  to  find  him  any  possi- 
ble livelihood  above  menial  service.  I  was  met  everywhere 
with  the  same  answer ;  "  There  are  hundreds  of  gentleman's 
sons  wearing  out  their  youth  in  looking  for  the  same  thing." 
I  was  told  daily  that  it  was  quite  in  vain — that  apprentice- 
ships were  as  much  sought  as  clerkships,  and  that  every 
avenue  to  the  making  of  a  sixpence  was  overcrammed  and  in- 
accessible. My  boy  and  his  mother  at  last  came  to  their 
senses ;  and,  consenting  to  apply  once  more  for  a  servant's 
place,  he  was  fortunate  enough  to  engage  as  valet  to  bachelor, 
and  is  now  gone  with  his  new  master  on  a  tour  to  France. 
As  Harding  the  painter  said  to  me,   when  he  returned  after 

*  I  can  record — now  fifteen  years  after — that,  in  six  years  from  that 
time,  he  had  become  the  conductor  of  a  Scientific  Review,  in  London 


152  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


his  foreign  trip ;  "  England  is  a  great  place  to  take  the  non- 
sense out  of  people." 

*  *  ****** 

When  London  shall  have  become  the  Rome  or  Athens  of 
a  fallen  empire  (qu.  will  it  ever  ?)  the  termini  of  the  railways 
will  be  among  its  finest  ruins.  That  of  the  Birmingham  and 
Liverpool  track  is  almost  as  magnificent  as  that  flower  of 
sumptuousness,  the  royal  palace  of  Caserta,  near  Naples.  It 
is  really  an  impressive  scene  simply  to  embark  for  "  Brumma- 
gem;" and  there  is  that  utility  in  all  this  showy  expenditure 
for  arch,  gateway,  and  pillar,  that  no  one  is  admitted  but  the 
passenger,  and  you  are  refreshingly  permitted  to  manage  your 
baggage,  &c.  without  the  assistance  of  a  hundred  blackguards 
at  a  shilling  each.  Then  there  are  "  ladies'  waiting-rooms," 
and  "  gentlemen's  waiting-rooms,"  and  attached  to  them  every 
possible  convenience,  studiously  clean  and  orderly.  I  wish 
the  president  and  directors  of  the  Utica  and  other  American 
railroads  would  step  over  and  take  a  sumptuary  hint. 

The  cars  are  divided  into  stalls,  i.  e.  each  passenger  is 
cushioned  ofi"  by  a  stufied  partition  from  his  neighbor's  shoul- 
der, and  sleeps  without  ofience  or  encroachment.  When  they 
are  crowded,  that  is  an  admirable  arrangement ;  but  I  have 
found  it  very  comfortable  in  long  journeys  in  America  to  take 
advantage  of  an  empty  car,  and  stretch  myself  to  sleep  along 
the  vacant  seat.  Here,  full  or  empty,  you  can  occupy  but 
your  upright  place.  In  every  car  are  suspended  lamps  to 
give  light  during  the  long  passages  through  the  subterranean 
tunnels. 

We  rolled  from  under  the  Brobdignag  roof  of  the  terminus,  as 
the  church  of  Mary-le-bone  (Cockney  for  Marie-labonne,  but 


SECOND    VISIT  TO  ENGLaSd.  j^g 


so  carved  on  the  frieze)  struck  six.  Our  speed  was  increased 
presently  to  thirty  miles  in  the  hour ;  and  with  the  exception 
of  the  slower  rate  in  passing  the  tunnels,  and  the  slackening 
and  getting  under  way  at  the  different  stations,  this  rate  was 
kept  up  throughout.  We  arrived  at  Liverpool  (205  •  miles  or 
upward)  at  three  o'clock,  our  stoppages  having  exceeded  an 
hour  altogethei- 

1  thought  toward  the  end,  that  all  this  might  be  very  plea- 
sant with  a  consignment  of  buttons  or  an  errand  .  to  Gretna 
Green.  But  for  the  pleasure  of  the  thing  I  would  as  lief  sit 
in  an  arm  chair  and  see  bales  of  striped  green  silk  unfolded 
for  eight  hours  as  travel  the  same  length  of  time  by  the  rail- 
road. (I  have  described  in  this  simile  exactly  the  appearance 
of  the  5clds  as  you  see  them  in  flying  past.)  The  old  women  and 
cabbages  gain  by  it,  perhaps,  for  you  cannot  tell  whether  they 
are  not  girls  and  roses.  The  washerwoman  at  her  tub  follows 
the  lady  on  the  lawn  so  quickly  that  you  confound  the  two 
irresistibly — the  thatched  cottages  look  like  browsing  donkeys, 
and  the  browsing  donkeys  like  thatched  cottages — you  ask 
the  name  of  a  town,  and  by  the  time  you  get  up  your  finger  you 
point  at  a  spot  three  miles  off — in  short,  the  salmon  well  packed 
in  straw  on  the  top  of  the  coach,  and  called  fresh  fish  after 
a  journey  of  200  miles,  sees  quite  as  much  of  the  country  as 
his  most  intellectual  fellow-passenger.  I  foresee  in  all  this  a 
new  distinction  in  phraseology.  "  Have  you  travelled  in  Eng- 
land ?"  will  soon  be  a  question  having  no  reference  to  rail- 
roads. The  winding  turnpike  and  cross-roads,  the  coaches 
and  post  carriages,  will' be  resumed  by  all  those  who  consider 
the  sense  of  sight  as  useful  in  travel,  and  the  bagmen  and 
7* 


154         FA#OTJS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


letter-bags  will  have  almost  undisputed  possession  of  the  rail- 
cars. 

The  Adelphi  is  the  Astor  house  of  Liverpool,  a  very  large 
and  showy  hotel  near  the  terminus  of  the  railway.     We  were 
shown  into  rather  a  magnificent  parlor  on  our  arrival ;  and 
very  hungry  with  railroading  since  six  in  the  morning,  we 
ordered  dinner  at  their  earliest  convenience.     It  came  after  a 
full  hour,  and  we  sat  down  to  four  super];)  silver  covers,   anti- 
cipating a  meal  corresponding  to  the  stout  person  and   pomp- 
ous manners  of  the  fattest  waiter  I  have  seen  in  my  travels- 
The  grand  cover  was  removed  with  a  flourish  and  disclosed — 
divers  small  bits  of  second  band  beefsteak,  toasted  brown  and 
warped  at  the  corners  by  a  second  fire;  and,  on  the  removal  of 
the  other  three  silver  pagodas,  our  eyes  were  gratified  by  a  dish 
of  peas  that  had  been  once  used  for  green  soup,  three  similarly 
toasted  and  wai*ped  mutton  chops,  and  three  potatoes.     Quite 
incredulous  of  the  cook's  intentions,  I  ventured  to  suggest  to 
the  waiter  that  he  had  probably  mistaken  the  tray  and  brought 
us  the  dinner  of  some  sportsman's  respectable  brace  of  point- 
ers ;  but  on  being  assured  that  there  were  no  dogs  in  the  cel- 
lar, I  sent  word  to  the  master  of  the  house  that  we  had  rather 
a  preference  for  a  dinner  new  and  hot,  and  would  wait  till  ho 
could  provide  it.     Half  an  hour  more  brought   up   the  land- 
lord's apologies  and  a  fresh  and  hot  beef-steak,  followed  by  a 
tough  crusted  applepie,  custard,  and  cheese — and  with  a  bot- 
tle of  Moselle  which  was  good,  we  finished  our  dinner  at  one 
of  the  most  expensive  and  showy  hotels  in  England.      The 
manners  and  fare  at  the  American  hotels  being  always  de- 
Bcribed  as  exponents  of  civilization  by  English  travellers,  I 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  ENGLAND.  J55 

shall  be  excused  for  giving  a  counter-picture  of  one  of  the  most 
boasted  of  their  own. 

Regretting  exceedingly  that  the  recent  mourning  of  my  two 
companions  must  prevent  their  presence  at  the  gay  festivities 
of  Eglington,  I  put  them  on  board  the  steamer,  bound  on  a 
visit  to  relatives  in  Dublin,  and  returned  to  the  Adelphi  to  wait 
en  garcon  for  the  Glasgow  steamer  of  Monday.  My  chamber 
is  a  large  and  well-furnished  room,  with  windows  looking  out 
on  the  area  shut  in  by  the  wings  of  the  house ;  and  I  must 
make  you  still  more  contented  at  the  Astor,  by  describing  what 
is  going  on  below  at  this  moment.  It  is  half  past  eight,  and 
a  Sunday  morning.  All  the  bells  of  the  house,  it  seems  to  me, 
are  ringing,  most  of  them  very  impatiently,  and  in  the  area 
before  the  kitchen  windows  are  six  or  eight  idle  waiters,  and 
four  or  five  female  scullions,  playing,  quarrelling,  scolding  and 
screaming ;  the  language  of  both  men  and  women  more  profane 
and  indecent  than  anything  I  have  ever  before  chanced  to  hear, 
and  every  word  audible  in  every  room  in  this  quarter  of  the 
hotel.  This  has  been  going  on  since  six  this  morning  ;  and  I 
seriously  declare  I  do  not  think  I  ever  heard  as  much  indecent 
conversation  in  my  life  as  for  three  mortal  hours  must  have 
"  murdered  sleep"  for  every  lady  and  gentleman  lodged  on 
the  rear  side  of  the  "  crack  hotel"  of  Liverpool. 

Sick  of  the  scene  described  above,  I  went  out  just  now  to 
take  a  turn  or  two  in  my  slippers  in  the  long  entry.  Up  and 
down,  giving  me  a  most  appealing  stare  whenever  we  met,  daw- 
dled also  the  fat  waiter  who  served  up  the  cold  victuals  of 
yesterday.  He  evidently  had  some  errand  with  me,  but  what 
I  did  not  immediately  fathom.     At  last  he  approached— 

"  You — a — got  your  things,  sir  ?" 


166  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


"  What  things  ?" 

*♦  The  stick  and  umbrella,  I  carried  to  your  bedroom,  sir  ?" 

"  Yes,  thank  you,"  and  I  resumed  my  walk. 

The  waiter  resumed  his,  and  presently  approached  again. 

"  You — a— don't  intend  to  use  the  parlor  again,  sir  ?" 

"  No :  I  have  explained  to  the  master  of  the  house  that  1 
shall  breakfast  in  the  coffee-room."     And  again  I  walked  on. 

My  friend  began  again  at  the  next  turn. 

"  You — a — pay  for  those  ladies'  dinner  yourself,  sir  ?" 

"  Yes."     I  walked  on  once  more. 

Once  more  approaches  my  fat  incubus,  and  with  a  twirl  of 
the  towel  in  his  hand  looks  as  if  he  would  fain  be  delivered  of 
something. 

"  Why  the  d — 1  am  I  badgered  in  this  way  ?"  I  stormed 
out  at  last,  losing  patience  at  his  stammering  hesitation,  and 
making  a  move  to  get  round  the  fat  obstruction  and  pursue 
my  walk. 

"  Will  you — a — remember  the  waiter,  if  you  please,  sir  ?" 

•  "  Oh  I  I  was  not  aware  that  I  was  to  pay  the  waiter  at  every 

meal.     I  generally  do  it  when  I  leave  the  house.     Perhaps 

you'll  be  kind  enough  to  let  me  finish  my  walk,  and   trust  me 

till  to-morrow  morning  ?" 

P.  S.  Evening  in  the  coffee-room. — They  say  the  best  begin- 
ning in  love  is  a  decided  aversion,  and  badly  as  I  began  at 
Liverpool,  I  shall  always  have  a  tender  recollection  of  it  for  the 
unequalled  luxury  of  its  baths.  A  long  and  beautiful  Grecian 
building  crests  the  head  of  George!8  pier,  built  by  the  corpora- 
tion of  Liverpool,  and  devoted  exclusively  to  salt-water  baths. 
I  walked  down  in  the  twilight  to  enjoy  this  refreshing  luxury, 
and  it  being  Sunday  evening,  I  was  shown  into  the  ladies'  end 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  ENGLAND. 


157 


of  the  building.  The  room  where  I  waited  till  the  bath  was 
prepared  was  a  lofty  and  finely  proportioned  apartment,  ele- 
gantly furnished,  and  lined  with  superbly  bound  books  and 
pictures,  the  tables  covered  with  engravings,  and  the 
whole  looking  like  a  central  apartment  in  a  nobleman's  resi- 
dence. A  boy  showed  me  presently  into  a  small  drawing- 
room,  to  which  was  attached  a  bath  closet,  the  two  rooms 
lined,  boudoir  fashion,  with  chintz,  a  clock  over  the  bath,  a 
nice  carpet  and  stove,  in  short,  every  luxury  possible  to  such 
an  establishment.  I  asked  the  boy  if  the  gentlemen's  baths  were 
as  elegant  as  these.  "  Oh  yes,"  he  said  :  "  there  are  two  splen- 
did pictures  of  Niagara  Falls  and  Catskill."  "Who  painted 
them?"  "Mr.  Wall."  "And  whose  are  they?"  "They 
belong  to  our  father,  sir  !"     I  made  up  my  mind  that  "  our 

father"  was  a  man  of  taste  and  a  credit  to  Liverpool. 

******** 

I  have  just  returned  from  the  dinner  given  to  Macready 
at  the  Freemason's  tavern.  The  hall,  so  celebrated  for  public 
"  feeds,"  is  a  beautiful  room  of  a  very  showy  style  of  archi- 
tecture, with  three  galleries,  and  a  raised  floor  at  the  end, 
usually  occupied  by  the  cross-table.  It  accomodated  on  this 
occasion  four  hundred  persons. 

From  the  peculiar  object  of  the  meeting  to  do  honor  to  an 
actor  for  his  intellectual  qualities,  and  for  his  efforts  to  spiritual- 
ize and  elevate  the  stage,  there  probably  never  was  collected  to- 
gether in  one  room  so  much  talent  and  accomplishment.  Artists, 
authors,  critics,  publishers  and  amateurs  of  the  stage — a  large 
body  in  London — made  up  the  company.  My  attention  was 
called  by  one  of  my  neighbors  to  the  singularly  superior 
character  of  the  heads  about  us.  and  I  had  already  observed  tho 


1 5  8  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

striking  difference,  both  in  bead  and  physiognomy,  between 
this  and  a  common  assemblage  of  men.  Most  of  the  persons 
connected  with  the  press,  it  was  said;,  were  present ;  and  per- 
haps it  would  have  been  a  worthy  service  to  the  world  had 
some  shorn  Samson,  among  the  authors,  pulled  the  temple 
upon  the  heads  of  the  Philistines. 

The  cry  of  "  make  way  !"  introduced  the  duke  of  Sussex, 
the  chairman  of  the  meeting — a  stout,  mild-looking,  dignified 
old  man,  wearing  a  close  black  scull-cap  and  the  star  and  riband. 
He  was  followed  by  Lord  Conyngham,  who,  as  grand  cham- 
berlain, had  done  much  to  promote  the  interest  of  the  drama ; 
by  Lord  Nugent  (whom  I  had  last  seen  sailing  a  scampavia 
in  the  bay  of  Corfu,)  by  Sir  Lytton  Bulwer,  Mr.  Shell,  Sir 
Martin  Shee,  Young,  the  actor,  Mr.  Milnes,  the  poet,  and 
other  distinguished  men.  I  should  have  said,  by  the  way,  Mr. 
Macready  followed  next  his  Royal  Highness. 

The  cheering  and  huzzas,  as  this  procession  walked  up  the 
room,  were  completely  deafening.  Macready  looked  deadly 
pale  and  rather  overcome;  and  amid  the  waving  of  handker- 
chiefs and  the  stunning  uproar  of  four  hundred  "  gentlemen 
and  scholars,"  the  Duke  placed  the  tragedian  at  his  right  hand, 
and  took  his  seat  before  the  turbot. 

The  dinner  was  an  uncommonly  bad  one;  but  of  this  I  had 
been  forewarned,  and  so  had  taken  a  provisory  chop  at  the 
club.  I  had  leisure,  therefore,  to  look  about  rae,  and  truly 
there  was  work  enough  for  the  eyes.  M 's  head  inter- 
ested me  more  than  any  one's  else,  for  it  was  the  personifica- 
tion of  his  lofty,  liberal,  and  poetic  genius.  His  hair,  which 
was  long  and  profuse,  curled  in  tendrils  over  the  loftiest  fore- 
head ;  but  about  the  lower  part  of  the  face  lay  all  the  charac- 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  ENGLAND.  I59 

teristics  which  go  to  make  up  a  voluptuous  yet  generous,  an 
enthusiastic  and  fiery,  yet  self-possessed  and  well-directed 
character.  Ho  was  excessively  handsome ;  yet  it  was  the 
beauty  of  Massaniello,  or  Salvator  Rosa,  with  more  of  intellect 
than  both  together.  All  in  all,  I  never  saw  a  finer  face  for  an 
artist;  and  judging  from  his  looks  and  from  his  works  (he  is 
perhaps  twenty-four,)  I  would  stake  my  sagacity  on  a  bold 
prophecy  of  his  greatness. 

On  the  same  side  were  the  L s,  very  quiet-looking  men, 

and  S the  portrait-painter,  a  merry  looking  grenadier,  and 

L B the  poet,  with  a  face  like  a  poet.     Near  me  was 

JiOver,  the  painter,  poet,  novelist,  song  and  music  writer,  dra- 
matist, and  good  fellow — seven  characters  of  which  his  friends 
scarce  know  in  which  he  is  most  excellent — and  he  has  a  round 
Irish  face,  with  a  bright  twinkle  in  his  eye,  and  a  plump  little 
body  which  carries  off  all  his  gifts  as  .if  they  were   no  load  at 

all. — And  on  my  left  was  S ,  the  glorious  painter  of  Venice, 

of  the  battle  of  Trafalgar,  the  unequalled  painter  of  the  sea  in 
all  its  belongings  ;  and  you  would  take  him  for  a  gallant  lieu- 
tenant of  the  navy,  and  with  the  fire  of  a  score  of  battles  asleep 
in  his  eye,  and  the  roughening  of  a  hundred  tempests  in  his 
chejek.  A  franker  and  more  manly  face  w^ould  not  cross  your 
eye  in  a  year's  travel. 

Mr.  J was  just  beyond,  a  tall,   sagacious  looking  good 

humored  person  of  forty-five.  He  was  a  man  of  very  kind 
manners,  and  was  treated  with  great  marks  of  liking  and  re- 
spect by  all  about  him.  But  directly  opposite  to  me  sat  so 
exact  a  picture  of  Paul  Pry  as  he  is  represented  on  the  stage, 
particulary  of  my  friend  Finn  in  that  character,  that  it  was 
difiicult  not  to  smile  in  looking  at  him.     To  my  surprise,  I 


J  50  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

heard  some  one  point  him  out,  soon  after,  as  the  well-known 
original  in  that  character— the  gentleman,  whose  peculiarities 
of  person,  as  well  as  manners,  were  copied  in  the  farce  of  Mr. 
Poole.  "  That's  my  name — what's  yours?"  said  he  the  mo 
ment  after  he  had  seated  himself,  thrusting  his  card  close  to 
to  the  nose  of  the  gentleman  next  him.  I  took  it  of  course  for 
a  piece  of  fun  between  two  very  old  friends,  but  to  my  aston- 
ishment the  gentleman  next  him  was  as  much  astonished  as  I. 

The  few  servants  scattei^d  up  and  down  were  deaf  to  every- 
thing but  calls  for  champagne  (furnished  only  at  an  extra 
charge  when  called  for — a  very  mean  system  for  a  public  din- 
ner by  the  way,)  and  the  wines  on  the  table  seemed  Selected 
to  drive  one  to  champagne  or  the  doctor.  Each  person  had 
four  plates,  and  when  used,  they  were  to  be  put  under  the 
bench,  or  on  the  top  of  your  head,  or  to  be  sat  upon,  or  what 
you  would  except  to  be  taken  away,  and  the  soup  and  fish, 
and  the  roast  and  boiled  and  all,  having  been  put  on  together, 
was  all  removed  at  one  fell  swoop — the  entire  operation  of 
dinner  having  lasted  just  twenty-jive  minutes.  Keep  this  fact 
till  we  are  recorded  by  some  new  English  traveller  as  the  most 
expeditious  eaters  in  Christendom. 

Here  end  my  croakings,  however,  for  the  speeches  com- 
menced directly,  and  /idmirable  they  were.  To  the  undoing 
of  much  prejudice  got  by  hearsay,  I  j^tened  to  Bulwer.  He 
is,  beyond  all  comparison,  the  most  graceful  aud  efiective 
speaker  I  ever  heard  in  England.  All  the  world  tells  you  that 
he  makes  signal  failures  in  oratory — yet  ho  rose,  when  his 
health  was  drank,  and,  in  self  possessed,  graceful,  unhesitating 
language,  playful,  yet  dignified,  warm,  yet  not  extravagant,  he 
replied  to  the  compliments  of  His  Royal  Highness,  and  brought 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  ENGLAND.  ^gj 


forward  his  plan  (as  you  have  seen  it  reported  in  the  news- 
papers) for  the  erection  of  a  new  theatre  for  the  legitimate 
drama  and  Macready.  I  remember  once  hearing  that  Bulwer 
had  a  belief  in  his  future  eminence  as  an  orator — and  I  would 
warrant  his  warmest  anticipations  in  that  career  of  ambition. 
He  is  a  better  speaker  than  Sheil,  who  followed  him,  and  Sheil 
is  renowned  as  an  orator.  Keally  there  is  nothing  like  one's 
own  eyes  and  ears  in  this  world  of  envy  and  misrepresentation. 

D sat  near  Sheil,  at  the  cross  table,  very  silent,  as  is  his 

custom  and  that  of  most  keen  observers.  The  courtly  Sir 
Martin  Shea  was  near  B ,  looking  like  some  fine  old  pic- 
ture of  a  wit  of  Charles  the  second's  time,  and  he  and  Y 

/t  the  actor  made  two  very /pposite  and  gentlemanlike  speeches, 
I  believe  I  have  told  you  nearly  all  that  struck  me  except  what 
was  reported  in  the  gazettes,  and  that  you  have  no  need  to 
read  over  again.  I  got  away  at  eleven,  and  reached  the  opera 
in  time  to  hear  the  last  act  of  the  Puritani,  and  see  the  Ele- 
elers  dance  in  the  ballet,  and  with  a  look  in  at  a  ball,  I  conclu- 
ded one  of  those  exhausting,  exciting,  overdone  London  days, 
which  are  pleasanter  to  remember  than  to  enjoy,  and  pleasanter 

to  read  about  than  either. 

#  *  *      .  #  * 

One  of  the  most  elegant  and  agreeable  persons  I  ever  saw  was 
Miss  Jane  Porter,  and  I  think  her  conversation  more  delight- 
ful to  remember  than  any  person's  I  ever  knew.  A  distin- 
guished artist  told  me  that  he  remembered  her  when  she  was 
his  beau-ideal  of  female  beauty ;  but  in  those  days  she  was 
more  "  fancy-rapt,"  and  gave  in  less  to  the  current  and  spirit 
of  society.  Age  has  made  her,  if  it  may  be  so  expressed,  less 
selfish  in  her  use  of  thought,  and  she  pours  it  forth   like 


162  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


Pactolus — that  gold  which  is  sand  from  others.  She  is  still 
what  I  should  call  a  handsome  woman,  or,  if  that  be  not  al- 
lowed, she  is  the  wreck  of  more  than  a  common  allotment 
of  beauty,  and  looks  it.  Her  person  is  remarkably  erect,  her 
eyes  and  eyelids  (in  this  latter  resembling  Scott)  very  hea- 
vily moulded,  and  her  smile  is  beautiful.  It  strikes  me  that  it 
always  is  so — where  it  ever  was.  The  smile  seems  to  be  the 
work  of  the  soul. 

I  have  passed  months  under  the  same  roof  with  Miss  Porter, 
and  nothing  gave  me  more  pleasure  than  to  find  the  company 
in  that  hospitable  house  dwindled  to  a  "  fit  audience  though 
few,"  and  gathered  around  the  figure  in  deep  mourning  which 
occupied  the  warmest  corner  of  the  sofa.  In  any  vein,  and 
apropos  to  the  gravest  and  the  gayest  subject,  her  well-stored 
mind  and  memory  flowed  forth  in  the  same  rich  current  of 
mingled  story  and  reflection,  and  I  never  saw  an  impatient 
listener  beside  her.  I  recollect,  one  evening,  a  lady's  singing 
"  Auld  Robin  Gray,"  and  some  one  remarking,  (rather  unsen- 

timentally)  at  the  close,  "  By-the-by,  what  is  Lady  , 

(the  authoress  of  the  ballad)  doing  with  so  many  carpenters. 
Berkely   square  is  quite    deafened  with    their   hammering.' 

^^  Apropos  of  carpenters  and  Lady ,"  said  Miss  Porter — 

"  this  same  charming  ballad  writer  owes  something  to  the 
craft.  She  was  better-born  than  provided  with  the  gifts  of 
fortune,  and  in  her  younger  days  was  once  on  a  visit  to  a  no- 
ble house,  when  to  her  dismay,  a  largo  and  fashionable  com- 
pany arrived,  who  broug^it  with  them  a  mania  for  private  the- 
atricals. Her  wardrobe  was  very  slender,  barely  sufficient  for 
the  ordinary  events  of  a  weekday,  and  her  purse  contained 
one  solitary  shilling.     To  leave  the  house  was  out  of  the  quos- 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  ENGLAND. 


163 


tion,  to  feign  illness  as  much  so,  and  to  decline  taking  a  part 
was  impossible,  for  her  talent  and  sprightliness  were  the  hope 
of  the  theatre.  A  part  was  cast  for  her,  and,  in  despair,  she 
excused  herself  from  the  gay  party  bound  to  the  country  town 
to  make  purchases  of  silk  and  satin,  and  shut  herself  up,  a 
prey  to  mortified  low  spirits.  The  character  required  a  smart 
village  dress,  and  it  certainly  did  not  seem  that  it  could  come 
out  of  a  shilling.  She  sat  at  her  window,  biting  her  lips,  and 
turning  over  in  her  mind  whether  she  could  borrow  of  some 
one,  when  her  attention  was  attracted  to  a  carpenter,  who 
was  employed  in  the  construction  of  a  stage  in  the  large  hall, 
and  who,  in  the  court  below,  was  turning  off  from  his  plane 
broad  and  long  shavings  of  a  peculiarly  striped  wood.  It 
struck  her  that  it  was  like  riband.  The  next  moment  she 
was  below,  and  begged  of  the  man  to  give  her  half  a  dozen 
lengths  as  smooth  as  he  could  shave  them.  He  performed  his 
task  well,  and  depositing  them  in  her  apartment,  she  set  off 
alone  on  horseback  to  the  village,  and  with  her  single  shilling 
succeeded  in  purchasing  a  chip  hat  of  the  coarsest  fabric.  She 
carried  it  home,  exultingly,  trimmed  it  with  her  pine  shavings, 
and  on  the  evening  of  the  performance  appeared  with  a  white 
dress,  and  hat  and  belt  ribands  which  were  the  envy  of  the 
audience.  The  success  of  her  invention  gave  her  spirits  and 
assurance,  and  she  played  to  admiration.  The  sequel  will 
justify  my  first  remark.  She  made  a  conquest  on  that  night 
of  one  of  her  titled  auditors,  whom  she  afterward  married. — 

You  will  allow  that  Lady  may  afford  to  be  tolerant  of 

carpenters." 

An  eminent  clergyman  one  evening  became  the  subject  of 
conversation,  and  a  wonder  was  expressed  that  he  had  never 


1 64  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

married.  "  That  wonder,"  said  Miss  Porter,  ^'  was  once  ex- 
pressed to  the  reverend  gentleman  himself,  in  my  hearing, 
and  he  told  a  story  in  answer  which  I  will  tell  you — and  per- 
haps, slight  as  it  may  seem,  it  is  the  history  of  other  hearts  as 
sensitive  and  delicate  as  his  own.  Soon  after  bis  ordination, 
he  preached  once  every  Sabbath,  for  a  clergyman  in  a  village 
not  twenty  miles  from  London.  Among  his  auditors,  from 
Sunday  to  Sunday,  he  observed  a  young  lady,  who  always 
occupied  a  certain  seat,  and  whose  close  attention  began  insen- 
sibly to  grow  to  him  an  object  of  thought  and  pleasure.  She 
left  the  church  as  soon  as  service  was  over,  and  it  so  chanced 
that  he  went  on  for  a  year  without  knowing  her  name  ;  but 
his  sermon  was  never  written  without  many  a  thought  how 
she  would  approve  it,  nor  preached  with  satisfaction  unless  he 
read  approbation  in  her  face.  Gradually  he  came  to  think  oi 
her  at  other  times  than  when  writing  sermons,  and  to  wish  to 
see  her  on  other  days  than  Sundays;  but  the  weeks  slipped 
on,  and  though  he  fancied  she  grew  paler  and  thinner,  he  never 
brought  himself  to  the  resolution  either  to  ask  her  name,  or  to 
seek  to  speak  with  her.  By  these  silent  steps,  however,  love 
had  worked  into  his  heart,  and  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to 
seek  her  acquaintance  and  marry  her,  if  possible,  when  one 
day  he  was  sent  for  to  minister  at  a  funeral.  The  face  of  the 
corpse  was  the  same  that  had  looked  up  to  him  Sunday  after 
Sunday,  till  he  had  learned  to  make  it  a  part  of  his  religion 
and  his  life.  He  was  unable  to  perform  the  service,  and  ano- 
ther clergyman  present  officiated ;  and  after  she  was  buried, 
her  father  took  him  aside,  and  begged  his  pardon  for  giving 
him  pain — but  he  could  not  resist  the  impulse  to  tell  him  that 
his  daughter  had  mentioned  his  name  with  her  last  breath, 


SECOND    VISIT  TO  ENGLAND.  Igg 

and  he  was  afraid  that  a  concealed  affection  for  him  had  hur- 
ried her  to  the  grave.  Since  that,  said  the  clergyman  in  ques- 
tion, my  heart  has  been  dead  within  me,  and  I  look  forward 
only.     I  shall  speak  to  her  in  heaven." 

*  *  ****** 

London  is  wonderfully  embellished  within  the  last  three 
year§ — not  so  much  by  new  buildings,  public  or  private,  but 
by  the  almost  insane  rivalry  that  exists  among  the  tradesmen 
to  outshow  each  other  in  the  expensive  magnificence  of  their 
shops.  When  I  was  in  England  before,  there  were  two  or 
three  of  these  palaces  of  columns  and  plate-glass — a  couple  of 
shawl  shops,  and  a  glass  warehouse  or  two,  but  now  the  west 
end  and  the  city  have  each  their  scores  of  establishments,  of 
which  you  would  think  the  plate  glass  alone  would  ruin  any 
body  but  Aladdin.  After  an  absence  of  a  month  from  town 
lately,  I  gave  myself  the  always  delightful  treat  of  an  after- 
dinner  ramble  among  the  illuminated  palaces  of  Regent  street 
and  its  neighborhood,  and  to  my  surprise  found  four  new  won- 
ders of  this  description — a  shawl  house  in  the  upper  Regent's 
Circus,  a  silk  mercer's  in  Oxford  street,  a  whip  maker's  in 
Regent  street,  and  a  fancy  stationer's  in  the  Quadrant — either 
of  which  establishments  fifty  years  ago  would  have  been  the 
talk  of  all  Europe.  The  first-mentioned  warehouse  lines  one 
of  the  quarters  of  the  Regent  Circus,  and  turns  the  corner  of 
Oxford  street  with  what  seems  but  one  window — a  series  of 
glass  plates,  only  divided  by  brass  rods,  reaching  from  the 
ground  to  the  roof — window  panes  twelve  feet  high,  and  four 
or  five  feet  broad  !  The  opportunity  which  this  immense 
transparency  of  front  gives  for  the  display  of  goods  is  propor- 


166  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


tionately  improved  ;  and  in  the  mixture  of  colors  and  fabrics 
to  attract  attention  there  is  evidently  no  small  degree  of  art — ^ 
80  harmonious  are  the  colors  and  yet  so  gorgeous  the  show.  I 
see  that  several  more  renovations  are  taking  place  in  diflferent 
parts  of  both  "city"  and  ''town;"  and  London  promises, 
somewhere  in  the  next  decimals,  to  complete  its  emergence 
from  the  chrysalis  with  a  glory  to  which  eastern  tales  will  be 
very  gingerbread  matters  indeed. 

If  I  may  judge  by  my  own  experience  and  by  what  I  can 
see  in  the  streets,  all  this  night-splendor  out  of  doors  empties 
the  playhouses — for  I  would  rather  walk  Regent  street  of  an 
evening  than  see  ninety-nine  plays  in  a  hundred  ;  and  so  think 
apparently  multitudes  of  people,  who  stroll  up  and  down  the 
clean  and  broad  London  sidewalks,  gazing  in  at  the  gorgeous 
succession  of  shop  windows,  and  by  the  day-bright  glare  of 
the  illumination  extending  nods  and  smiles — the  street,  indeed, 
becoming  gradually  a  fashionable  evening  promenade,  as  cheap 
as  it  is  amusing  and  delightful.  There  are  large  classes  of 
society,  who  lind  the  evenings  long  in  their  dingy  and  incon- 
venient homes,  and  who  must  go  somewhere ;  and  while  the 
streets  were  dark,  and  poorly  paved  and  lighted,  the  play- 
house was  the  only  resort  where  they  could  beguile  their 
cares  with  splendor  and  amusement,  and  in  those  days  theat- 
ricals flourished,  as  in  these  days  of  improved  thoroughfares 
and  gay  shops  they  evidently  languish.  I  will  lend  the  hint 
to  the  next  essayist  on  the  "  Decline  of  the  Drama." 

The  increased  attractiveness  of  London,  from  thus  disclos- 
ing  the  secrets  of  its  wondrous  wealth,  compensates  in  a  de- 
gree for  what  increases  as  rapidly  on  me — the  distastefulnesa 
of  the  suburbs,  from  the  forbidding  and  repulsive  exclusive- 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  ENGL^VND.  j  57 


iiess  of  high  garden  walls,  impermeable  shrubberies,,  and  every 
•  sort  of  contrivance  for  confining  the  traveller  to  the  road, 
and  nothing  but  the  road.  What  should  we  say  in  America 
to  travelling  miles  between  two  brick  walls,  with  no  prospect 
but  the  branches  of  overhanging  trees  from  the  invisible  park 
lands  on  either  side,  and  the  alley  of  cloudy  sky  overhead  ? — 
How  tantalizing  to  pass  daily  by  a  noble  estate  with  a  fine 
specimen  of  architecture  in  its  centre,  and  see  no  more  of  it 
than  a  rustic  lodge  and  some  miles  of  the  tops  of  trees  over  a 
paling !  All  this  to  rae  is  oppressive — I  feel  abridged  of 
breathing  room  and  eyesight — deprived  of  my  liberty — robbed 
of  my  horizon.  Much  as  I  admire  high  preservation  and  cul- 
tivation, I  would  almost  compromise  for  a  "snake  fence"  in 
this  part  of  England. 

On  a  visit  to  a  friend  a  weelf  or  two  since  in  the  neighbor 
hood  of  London,  I  chanced,  during  a  long  walk,  to  get  a 
glimpse  over  the  wall  of  a  nicely-gravelled  and  secluded  path, 
which  commanded  what  the  proprietor's  fence  enviously  shut 
from  the  road — a  noble  view  of  London  and  the  Thames.  Ac- 
customed to  see  people  traversing  my  own  lawn  and  fields  in 
America  without  question,  as  suits  their  purpose,  and  tired  of 
the  bricks,  hedges,  and  placards  of  blacking  and  pills,  I  jump- 
ed the  fence,  and  with  feelings  of  great  relief  and  expansion 
aired  my  eyes  and  my  imagination  in  the  beautiful  grounds  of 
my  friend's  opulent  neighbor.  The  Thames,  with  its  innu- 
merable steamers,  men-ofwar,  yachts,  wherries,  and  ships — 
a  vein  of  commercial  and  maritime  life  lying  between  the  soft 
green  meadows  of  Kent  and  Essex — formed  a  delicious  pic- 
ture of  contrast  and  meaning  beauty,  which  I  gazed  on  with 
iireat  delight  for — some  ten  minutes.     In  about  that  time  I 


168         FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

was  perceived  by  Mr.  B 's  gardener,  who,  with  a  very 

pokerish  stick  in  his  hand,  came  running  toward  me,  evidently 
by  his  pace,  prepared  for  a  vigorous  pursuit  of  the  audacious 
intruder.  He  came  up  to  where  I  stood,  quite  out  of  breath, 
and  demanded,  with  a  tight  grasp  of  his  stick,  what  business 
I  had  there.  I  was  not  very  well  prepared  with  an  answer, 
and  short  of  beating  the  man  for  his  impudence,  (which  in  se- 
veral ways  might  have  been  a  losing  job,)  I  did  not  see  my 
way  very  clearly  out  of  Mr.  B.'s  grounds.  My  first  intention, 
to  call  on  the  proprietor  and  apologise  for  my  intrusion  while 
I  complained  of  the  man's  insolence,  was  defeated  by  the  in- 
formation, evidently  correct,  that  Mr.  B w^as  not  resident 

at  the  place,  and  so  I  was  walked  out  of  the  lodge  gate  with  a 
vagabond's  warning — never  to  let  him  "  catch  me  there  again." 
So  much  for  my  liberal  translation  of  a  park  fence 

This  spirit  of  exclusion  makes  itself  even  more  disagreeably 
felt  where  a  gentleman's  paling  chances  to  include  any  natu- 
ral curiosity.  One  of  the  wildest,  as  well  as  most  exquisitely 
beautiful  spots  on  earth  is  the  Dargle,  in  the  county  Wick- 
low,  in  Ireland.  It  is  interesting,  besides,  as  belonging  to 
the  estate  of  the  orator  and  patriot  Grattan.  To  get  to  it,  we 
were  let  through  a  gate  by  an  old  man,  who  received  a  dou- 
ceur :  we  crossed  a  newly  reaped  field,  and  came  to  another 
gate ;  another  person  opened  this,  and  we  paid  another  shil- 
ling. We  walked  on  toward  the  glen,  and  in  the  middle  of  the 
path,  without  any  object  apparently  but  the  toll,  there  was 
another  locked  gate,  and  another  porter  to  pay ;  and  when 
we  made  our  exit  from  the  opposite  extremity  of  the  grounds, 
after  seeing  the  Dargle,  there  was  a  fourth  gate  and  a  fourth 
porter.     The  first  field  and  fee  belonged,  if  I  remember  right- 


SECOND   VISIT  TO  ENGLAND. 


169 


ly,  to  a  Captain  Somebody,  but  the  other  three  gates  belong  to 
the  present  ^[r.  Grattau,  who  is  very  welcome  to  my  three 
shillings,  either  as  a  tribute  to  his  father's  memory,  or  to  the 
beauty  of  Tinnehinch  and  the  Dargle.  But  on  whichever 
ground  he  pockets  it,  the  mode  of  assessment  is,  to  say  the 
least,  ungracious.  Without  subjecting  myself  to  the  charge 
of  a  mercenary  feeling,  I  think  I  may  say  that  the  enthusiasm 
for  natural  scenery  is  very  much  clipped  and  belittled  by  seeing 
it  at  a  shilling  the  percb — paying  the  money  and  taking  the 
look.  I  should  think  no  sum  lost  which  was  expended  in 
bringing  me  to  so  romantic  a  glen  as  the  Dargle ;  but  it  should 
be  levied  somewhere  else  than  within  sound  of  its  wild  water- 
fall— somewhere  else  than  between  the  waterfall  and  the  fine 
mansion  of  Tinnehinch. 

The  fish  most  "  out  of  water"  in  the  world  is  certainly  a 
Frenchman  in  England  without  acquaintances.  The  illness 
of  a  friend  has  lately  occasioned  me  one  or  two  hasty  visits  to 
Brighton  ;  and  being  abandoned  on  the  first  evening  to  the 
solitary  mercies  of  the  cofiee-room  of  the  hotel,  I  amused  my- 
self not  a  little  with  watching  the  ennui  of  one  of  these  unfor- 
tunate foreigners  who  was  evidently  there  simply  to  qualify 
himself  to  say  that  he  had  been  at  Brighton  in  the  season.  I 
arrived  late,  and  was  dining  by  myself  at  one  of  the  small  tables, 
when  I  became  aware  that  some  one  at  the  other  end  of  the 
room  was  watching  me  very  steadily.  The  place  was  as  silent 
as  coffee-rooms  usually  are  after  the  dinner  hour,  the  rustling 
of  newspapers  the  only  sound  that  disturbed  the  digestion  of 
eight  or  ten  persons  present,  when  the  unmistakeable  call  of 
"  Vaitare  !"  informed  me  that  if  I  looked  up  I  should  ©ncoun- 
8 


170  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

ter  the  eyes  of  a  Frenchman.  The  ^vaiter  entered  at  the  call, 
and  after  a  considerable  parley  with  my  opposite  neighbor, 
came  over  to  me  and  said  in  rather  an  apologetic  tone,  "  Beg 
pardon,  sir,  but  the  shevaleer  wishes  to  know  if  your  name  is 
Coopairy  Not  very  much  inclined,  fatigued  as  I  was,  for  a 
conversation  in  French,  which  I  saw  would  be  the  result  of  a 
pohte  answer  to  his  question,  I  merely  shook  my  head,  and  took 
up  the  newspaper.  The  Frenchman  drew  a  long  sigh,  poured 
out  his  last  glass  of  claret,  and  crossing  his  thumbs  on  the 
edge  of  the  table,  fell  into  a  profound  study  of  the  grain  of 
the  mahogany. 

"What  with  dawdhng  over  coffee  and  tea  and  reading  half- 
a-dozen  newspapers,  I  whiled  away  the  time  till  ten  o'clock, 
pitying  occasionally  the  unhappy  chevalier  who  exhibited  every 
symptom  of  a  person  bored  to  the  last  extremity.  One  person 
after  another  called  for  a  bed-room  candle,  and  exit  finally  the 
Frenchman  himself,  making  me,  however,  a  most  courteous 
bow  as  he  passed  out.  There  were  two  gentlemen  left  in  the 
room,  one  a  tall  and  thin  old  man  of  seventy,  the  other  a  short 
and  portly  man  of  fifty  or  thereabouts,  both  quite  bald.  They 
rose  together  and  came  to  the  fire  near  which  I  was  sitting. 

"  That  last  man  that  went  out  calls  himself  a  chevalier," 
said  the  thin  gentleman. 

"  Yes,"  said  his  stout  friend — "  he  took  me  for  a  Mr.  Cooper 
he  had  travelled  with." 

"  The  deuce  ho  did,"  said  the  other — "  why  he  took  me  for 
a  Mr.  Cooper,  too,  and  we  are  not  very  much  alike." 

"  I  beg  pardon,  gentlemen,"  said  I — "  he  took  me  for  this 
Mr.  Cooper  too." 
.    The  Frenchman's  ruse  was  discovered.     It  was  instead  of 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  ENGLAND.  ^^j 


a  snuff-box — a  way  lie  had  of  making  acquaintance.  We  had 
a  good  laugh  at  our  triple  resemblance  (three  men  more  un- 
like it  would  be  difficult  to  find,)  and  bidding  the  two  Messrs. 
Cooper  good  night,  I  followed  the  ingenious  chevalier  up 
stairs. 

The  next  morning  I  came  down  rather  late  to  breakfast,  and 
found  my  friend  chipping  his  egg-shells  to  pieces  at  the  table 
next  to  thejjne  I  had  occupied  the  night  before.  He  rose  im- 
mediately wdth  a  look  of  radiant  relief  in  his  countenance, 
made  a  most  elaborate  apology  for  having  taken  me  for  Mr. 
Cooper  (whom  I  was  so  like,  cependant^  that  we  should  be 
mistaken  for  each  other  by  our  nearest  friends,)  and  in  a  few 
minutes,  Mr.  Cooper  himself,  if  he  had  entered  by  chance, 
would  have  returned  the  compliment,  and  taken  me  for  the 
chevaHer's  most  intimate  friend  and  fellow-traveller. 

I  remained  two  or  three  days  at  Brighton,  and  never  dis- 
covered in  that  time  that  the  chevalier's  ruse  succeeded  with 
any  other  person.  I  w^as  his  only  succcessful  resemblance  to 
"  Monsieur  Coopair."  He  always  waited  breakfast  for  me 
in  the  coffee  room,  and  when  I  called  for  my  bill  on  the  last 
morning,  he  dropped  his  knife  and  asked  if  I  was  going  to 
London — and  at  w^hat  hour — and  if  I  would  be  so  obliging  as 
to  take  a  place  for  him  in  the  same  coach. 

It  was  a  remarkably  fine  day ;  and  with  my  friend  by  my 
side  outside  of  "  the  Age,"  we  sped  on  toward  London,  the 
sun  getting  dimmer  and  dimmer,  and  the  fog  thicker  and  more 
chilly  at  every  mile  farther  from  the  sea.  It  was  a  trying 
atmosphere  for  the  best  of  spirits — let  alone  the  ever  depressed 
bosom  of  a  stranger  in  England.  The  coach  stopped  at  the 
Elephant  and  Castle,  and  I  ordered  down  my  baggage,  and 


172  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


informed  my  friend,  for  the  first  time,  that  I  was  bound  to  a 
country-house  six  miles  from  town.  I  scarce  knew  how  I  had 
escaped  telling  him  of  it  before,  but  his  "  impossible  !  mon 
ami  /"  was  said  in  a  tone  and  accompanied  with  a  look  of  the 
most  complete  surprise  and  despair.  I  was  evidently  his  only 
hope  in  Londcn. 

I  went  up  to  town  a  day  or  two  after ;  and  in  making  my 
way  to  Paternoster  Row,  I  saw  my  friend  on  theopposite  side 
of  the  Strand,  with  his  hands  thrust. up  to  the  wrists  in  the 
pockets  of  his  "  Taglioni,"  and  his  hat  jammed  down  over  his 
eyes,  looking  into  the  shop  windows  without  much  distinction 
between  the  trunkmaker's  and  the  printseller's— evidently  mis- 
erable beyond  being  amused  by  anything.  I  was  too  much 
in  a  hurry  to  cross  over  and  resume  my  oflBce  as  escape- valve 
to  his  ennui,  and  I  soon  outwalked  his  slow  pace,  and  lost 
sight  of  him.  Whatever  title  he  had  to  "  chevalier"  (and  he 
was  decidedly  too  deficient  in  address  to  belong  to  the  order 
"  d'indtistrie,^^)  he  had  no  letter  of  recommendation  in  his 
personal  appearance,  and  as  little  the  air  of  even  a  Frenchman 
of  "  quality"  as  any  man  I  ever  saw  in  the  station  of  a  gentle- 
man. He  is,  in  short,  the  person  who  would  first  occur  to  me 
if  I  were  to  see  a  paragraph  in  the  Times  headed  "  suicide  by 
a  foreigner. " 

Revenons  an  peu.  Brighton  at  this  season  (November)  en- 
joys a  climate,  which,  as  a  change  from  the  heavy  air  in  the 
neighborhood  of  London,  is  extremely  exhilarating  and  agree- 
able. Though  the  first  day  of  my  arrival  was  rainy,  a  walk 
up  the  west  clifi"  gave  me  a  feeling  of  elasticity  and  lightness 
of  spirits,  of  which  I  was  beginning  to  forget  the  very  exist- 
ence, in  the  eternal  fogs  of  the  six  months  I  had  passed  inland. 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  ENGLAND.  173 


I  do  not  wonder  at  the  passion  of  the  English  for  Brighton. 
It  is,  in  addition  to  the  excellence  of  the  air,  both  a  magnifi- 
cent city  and  the  most  advantageous  ground  for  the  discom- 
fiture of  the  common  enemy,  "  winter  and  rough  weather." 
The  miles  of  broad  gravel  walk  just  out  of  reach  of  the  surf  of 
the  sea,  so  hard  and  so  smoothly  rolled  that  they  are  dry  in 
five  minutes  after  the  rain  has  ceased  to  fall,  are,  alone,  no 
small  item  in  the  comfort  of  a  town  of  professed  idlers  and  in- 
valids. I  was  never  tired  of  sauntering  along  this  smooth 
promenade  so  close  to  the  sea.  The  beautiful  children,  who 
throng  the  walks  in  almost  all  weathers,  (and  what  children  on 
earth  are  half  as  beautiful  as  English  children  ?)  were  to  me  a 
constant  source  of  pleasure  and  amusement.  Tire  of  this, 
and  by  crossing  the  street  you  meet  a  transfer  of  the  gay 
throngs  of  Regent  street  and  Hyde  Park,  with  splendid  shops 
and  all  the  features  of  a  metropolis,  while  midway  between 
the  sea  and  this  crowded  sidewalk  pours  a  tide  of  handsome 
equipages,  parties  on  horseback,  and  vehicles  of  every  descrip- 
tion, all  subservient  to  exercise  and  pleasure. 

My  first  visit  to  Brighton  was  made  in  a  very  cold  day  in 
summer,  and  I  saw  it  through  most  unfavorable  spectacles. 
But  I  should  think  that  along  the  cliffs,  where  there  are  no 
trees  or  verdure  to  be  seen,  there  is  very  little  apparent  differ- 
ence between  summer  and  winter ;  and  coming  here  with  the 
additional  clothing  of  a  severer  season,  the  temperature  of  the 
elastic  and  saline  air  is  not  even  chilly.  The  most  delicate 
children  play  upon  the  beach  in  days  when  there  is  no  sun- 
shine ;  and  invalids,  wheeled  out  in  these  convenient  bath 
chairs,  sit  for  hours  by  the  seaside,  watching  the  coming 
and  retreating  of  the  waves,  apparently  without  any  sensation 


^174  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


of  cold — and  this  in  December.  In  America  (in  the  same  lat- 
itudes with  Leghorn  and  Venice)  an  invalid  sitting  out  of 
doors  at  this  season  would  freeze  to  death  in  half  an  hour. 
Yet  it  was  as  cold  in  August,  in  England,  as  it  has  been  in 
November,  and  it  is  this  temperate  evenness  of  the  weather 
throughout  the  year  which  makes  English  cHmate,  on  the 
whole,  perhaps  the  healthiest  in  the  world. 

In  the  few  days  I  was  at  Brighton,  I  became  very  fond  of 
the  perpetual  loud  beat  of  the  sea  upon  the  shore.  Whether, 
like  the  "  music  of  the  spheres,"  it  becomes  at  last  "  too  con- 
stant to  be  heard,"  I  did  not  ask — but  I  never  lost  the  con- 
sciousness of  it  except  when  engaged  in  conversation,  and  I 
found  it  company  to  my  thoughts  when  I  dined  or  walked 
alone,  and  a  most  agreeable  lullaby  at  night.  This  majestic 
monotone  is  audible  all  over  Brighton,  indoors  and  out,  and 
nothing  overpowers  it  but  the  wind  in  a  storm  ;  it  is  even 
then  only  by  fits,  and  the  alternation  of  the  hissing  and  moan- 
ing of  the  blast  with  the  broken  and  heavy  plash  of  the  waters 
is  so  like  the  sound  of  a  tempest  at  sea  (the  whistling  in  the 
rigging,  and  the  burst  of  the  waves)  that  those  who  have  been 
at  Brighton  in  rough  weather,  have  realized  all  of  a  storm  at 
sea  but  the  motion  and  the  sea-sickness — rather  a  large,  but 
not  an  undesirable  diminution  of  experience. 

Calling  on  a  friend  at  Brighton,  I  was  introduced  casually 
to  a  Mr.  Smith.  The  name,  of  course,  did  not  awaken  any 
immediate  curiosity,  but  a  second  look  at  the  gentleman  did 
— for  I  thought  I  had  never  seen  a  more  intellectual  or  finer 
Ijead.  A  fifteen  minutes'  conversation,  which  touched  upon 
nothing  that  could  give  mo  a  clue  to  his  profession,  still  satis- 
fied me  that  so  distinguished  an  address,  and  so  keen  an  eye, 


SECOND    VISIT  TO  ENGLAND. 


175 


could  belong  to  no  nameless  person,  and  I  was  scarcely  sur- 
prised when  I  read  upon  his  card  at  parting — Horace  Smith. 
I  need  not  say  it  was  a  very  great  pleasure  to  meet  him.  I 
was  delighted,  too,  that  the  author  of  books  we  love  as  much 
as  "  Zillah,"  and  "  Brambletye  House,"  looks  unlike  other 
men.  It  gratifies  somehow  u  personal  feeling — as  if  those 
who  had  won  so  much  admiration  from  us  should,  for  our 
pride's  sake,  wear  the  undeniable  stamp  of  superiority — as  if 
we  had  acquired  a  property  in  him  by  loving  him.  How  nat- 
ural it  is,  when  we  have  talked  and  thought  a  great  deal 
about  an  author,  to  call  him  "  ours."  "  What  Smith  ?  Why 
mir  Smith — Horace  Smith" — is  as  common  a  dialogue  between 
persons  who  never  saw  him  as  it  is  among  his  personal 
friends. 

These  two  remarkable  brothers,  James  and  Horace  Smith, 
are  both  gifted  with  exteriors  such  as  are  not  often  possessed 
with  genius — yet  only  James  is  so  fortunate  as  to  have  stum- 
bled upon  a  good  painter,  Lonsdale's  portrait  of  James 
Smith,  engraved  by  Cousens,  is  both  the  author  and  the  man 
— as  fine  a  picture  of  him,  with  his  mind  seen  through  his 
features,  as  was  ever  done.  But  there  is  an  engraved  picture 
extant  of  the  author  of  Zillah,  that,  though  it  is  no  Ukeness 
of  the  author^  is  a  detestable  caricature  of  the  man.  Keally 
this  is  a  point  about  which  distinguished  men,  in  justice  to 
themselves,  should  take  some  little  care.  Sir  Thomas  Law- 
rence's portraits,  and  Sir  Joshua  Eeynolds's,  are  a  sort  of  bio- 
graphy of  the  eminent  men  they  painted.  The  most  enduring 
history,  it  has  been  said,  is  written  in  coins.  Certainly  the 
most  effective  biography  is  expressed  in  portraits.  Long  after 
the  book  and  your  impressions  of  the   character  of  which  it 


176  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


treats  have  become  dim  in  your  memory,  your  impression  of 
the  features  and  mien  of  a  hero  or  «  poet,  as  received  from  a 
picture,  remains  indelible.  How  often  does  the  face  belie  the 
biography — making  us  think  better  or  worse  of  the  man,  after 
forming  an  opinion  from  a  portrait  in  ivords,  that  was  eithei' 
partial  or  malicious  !  I  am  persuaded  the  world  would  think 
better  of  Shelley,  if  there  were  a  correct  and  adequate  portrait 
of  his  face,  as  it  has  been  described  to  me  by  one  or  two  who 
knew  him.  How  much  of  the  Byronic  idolatry  is  born  and 
fed  from  the  idealized  pictures  of  him  treasured  in  every  port- 
folio 1  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence,  Chalon,  and  Parris,  have  com- 
posed between  them  a  biography  of  Lady  Blessington,  that 
have  made  her  quite  independent  of  the  "  memoirs  "  of  the 
next  century.  And  who,  I  may  safely  ask,  even  in  America, 
has  seen  the  nice,  cheerful,  sensible,  and  motherly  face  which 
prefaces  the  new  edition  of  "  The  Manners  of  the  American 
Domestics,"  (I  beg  pardon  for  giving  the  title  from  my  Ken- 
tucky copy)  without  liking  Mrs.  Trollope  a  great  deal  better 
and  at  once  dismissing  all  idea  of  "  the  bazar  "  as  a  libel  on 
that  most  lady-like  countenance  ? 

♦  ♦  *  ♦  m  4> 

,  I  think  Lady  S had  more  talent  and  distinction  crowd- 
ed into  her  pretty  rooms  last  night,  than  I  ever  before  saw  in 
such  small  compass.  It  is  a  bijou  of  a  house,  full  of  gems  of 
statuary  and  painting,  but  all  its  capacity  for  company  lies  in 
a  small  drawing-room,  a  smaller  reception  room,  and  a  very 
small,  but  very  exquisite  boudoir — yet  to  tell  you  who  were 
there  would  read  like  Colburn's  list  of  authors,  added  to  a 
paragraph  of  noble  diners  out  from  the  Morning  Post. 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  ENGLAND. 


177 


The  largest  lion  of  the  evening  certainly  was  the  new  Per- 
sian ambassador,  a  man  six  feet  in  liis  slippers ;  a  height 
which,  with  his  peaked  calpack,  of  a  foot  and  a  half,  super- 
added, keeps  him  very  much  among  the  chandeliers.  The 
principal  article  of  his  dress  does  not  diminish  the  effect  of  his 
eminence — a  long  white  shawl  worn  like  a  cloak,  and  com- 
pletely enveloping  him  from  beard  to  toe.  From  the  twisted 
shawl  around  his  waist  glitters  a  dagger's  hilt,  lumped  with 
diamonds — and  diamonds,  in  most  dazzling  profusion,  almost 
cover  his  breast.  I  never  saw  so  many  together  except  in  a 
cabinet  of  regalia.  Close  behind  this  steeple  of  shawl  and 
gem,  keeps,  like  a  short  shadow  when  the  sun  is  high,  his  ex- 
cellency's shadow,  a  dvvarlishly  small  man,  dressed  also  in 
cashmere  and  calpack,  and  of  a  most  ill-favored  and  bow- 
etringish  countenance  and  mien.  The  master  and  man  seem 
chosen  for  contrast,  the  countenance  of  the  ambassador  ex- 
pressing nothing  but  extreme  good  nature.  The  ambassador 
talks,  too,  and  the  secretary  is  dumb. 

T H stood  bolt  upright   against   a  mirror  door, 

looking  like  two  T H s  trying  to  see  which  was  taller. 

The  one  with  his  face  to  me  looked  like  the  incarnation  of  the 
John  Bull  newspaper,  for  which  expression  he  was  indebted 
to  a  very  hearty  face,  and  a  very  round  subject  for  a  buttoned 

up  coat ;  while  the  H with  his  back  to  me  looked  like  an 

author,  for  which  he  was  indebted  to  an  exclusive  view  of  his 

cranium.     I  dare  say  Mr.  H would  agree  with  me  that 

he  was  seen,  on  the  whole,  at  a  most  enviable  advantage.  It 
is  so  seldom  we  look,  beyond  the  man,  at  the  author. 

I  have  rarely  seen  a  greater  contrast  in  person  and  expres- 
sion than  between  H and  B ,  who   stood  near  him. 

8* 


178  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


Both  were  talking  to  ladies — one  bald,  burly,  upright,  and 
with  a  face  of  immovable  gravity,  the  other  slight,  with  a  pro- 
fusion of  curling  hair,  restless  in  his  movements,  and  of  a 
countenance  which  lights  up  with  a  sudden  inward  illumina- 
tion.    H 's  partner  in  the  conversation  looked  into  his  face 

wdth   a  ready-prepared   sinile  for  what  he  was  going  to  say, 

B 's  listened  with  an  interest  complete,  but  without  effort. 

H was  suffering  from  what  I  think  is  the  common  curse 

of  a  reputation  for  wit — the  expectation  of  the  listener  had 
outrun  the  performance. 

H B ,  whose  diplomatic  promotion  goes  on   much 

faster  than  can  be  pleasing  to  ^'-  Lady  Cheveley^^''  has  just  re- 
ceived his  appointment  to  Paris — the  object  of  his  first  wishes. 
He  stood  near  his  brother,  talking  to  a  beautiful  and  cele- 
brated woman,  and  I  thought,  spite  of  her  ladyship's  unflatter- 
ing description,  I  had  seldom  seen  a  more  intellectual  face,  or 
a  more  gentlemanly  and  elegant  exterior. 

Late  in  the  evening  came  in  his  Royal  Highness  the  duke 
of  C ,  and  I  wondered,  as  I  had  done  many  times  be- 
fore, when  in  company  with  one  of  these  royal  brothers,  at  the 
uncomfortable  etiquette  so  laboriously  observed  toward  them. 
Wherever  he  moved  in  the  crowded  rooms,  everybody  rose 
and  stood  silent,  and  by  giving  way  much  more  than  fur  any 
one  else,  left  a  perpetual  circular  space  around  him,  in  which, 
of  course,  his  conversation  had  the  effect  of  a  lecture  to  a 
listening  audience.  A  more  embarrassed  manner  and  a  more 
hesitating  mo'de  of  speech  than  the  duke's,  I  can  not  conceive. 
He  is  evidently  gene  to  the  last  degree  with  this  burdensome 
deference;  and  one  would  think  that  in  the  society  of  highly- 
cultivated  and  aristocratic  persons,  such  as  wore  present,  he 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  ENGLAND. 


170 


would  be  delighted  to  put  his  highness  into  his  pocket  when 
the  footman  leaves  him  at  the  door,  and  hear  no  more  of  it  till 
he  goes  again  to  his  carriage.  There  was  great  curiosity  to 
know  whether  the  Duke  would  think  it  etiquetical  to  speak  to 
the  Persian,  as  in  consequence  of  the  difference  between  the 
Shah  and  the  British  Envoy  the  tall  minister  is  not  received 

at   the    court  of  St.  James.     Lady  S introduced  them, 

however,  and  then  the  Duke  again  must  have  felt  his  rank 
nothing  less  than  a  nuisance.  It  is  awkward  enough  at  any 
time,  to  converse  with  a  foreigner  who  has  not  forty  English 
words  in  his  vocabulary,  but  what  with  the  Duke's  hesitating 
and  difficult  utterance,  the  silence  and  attention  of  the  listening 
guests,  and  the  Persian's  deference  and  complete  inability  to 
comprehend  a  syllable,  the  scene  was  quite  painful. 

There  was  some  of  the  most  exquisite  amateur  singing  I 
ever  heard  after  the  company  thinned  off  a  little,  and  the  fash- 
ionable song  of  the  day  was  sung  by  a  most  beautiful  woman 
in  a  way  to  move  half  the  company  to  tears.  It  is  called 
"  Euth,"  and  is  a  kind  of  recitative  of  the  passage  in  Scripture, 
"  Where  thou  goest  I  will  go,^^  &c. 

*  *  ****** 

I  have  driven  in  the  park  several  days,  admiring  the  queen 
on  horseback,  and  observing  the  changes  in  the  fashions  of 
driving,  equipages,  &c.,  &c.  Her  Majesty  seems  to  me  to 
ride  very  securely  and  fearlessly,  though  it  is  no  wonder  that 
in  a  country  where  every  body  rides,  there  should  be  bolder 
and  better  horsewomen.  Miss  Quentin,  one  of  the  maids  of 
honor,  said  to  be  the  best  female  equestrian  in  England,  "  takes 
the  courage  out"  of  the  Queen's  horse  every  morning  before 


180  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

the  ride — so  she  is  secured  against  one  class  of  accidents.  I 
met  the  royal  party  yesterday  in  full  gallop  near  the  centre  of 
Rotten  Row,  and  the  two  grooms  who  ride  ahead  had  brief 
time  to  do  their  work  of  making  the  crowd  of  carriages  give 
way.  On  came  the  Queen  upon  a  dun-colored,  highly-groomed 
horse,  with  her  prime  minister  on  one  side  of  her,  and  Lord 
Byron  upon  the  other,  her  cortege  of  maids  of  honor  and  ladies 
and  lords  in  waititig  checking  their  more  spirited  horses,  and 
preserving  always  a  slight  distance  between  themselves  and  Her 
Majesty.  Victoria's  round  and  plump  figure  looks  extremely  well 
in  her  dark  green  riding-dress,  but  I  thought  the  man's  hat  un- 
becoming. Her  profile  is  not  suflSciently  good  for  that  trying 
style,  and  the  cloth  riding-cap  is  so  much  prett'er,  that  I  won- 
der she  does  not  remember  that  "  nice  customs  courtesy  to 
great  92^fe;2s,'' and  wear  what  suits  her.  She  rode  with  her  mouth 
open,  and  looked  exhilarated  with  the  exercise.  Lord  Mel- 
bourne, it  struck  me,  was  the  only  person  in  her  party  whose 
face  had  not  the  constrained  look  of  consciousness  of  observa- 
tion. 

I  observe  that  the  "  crack  men"  ride  without  martingales, 
and  that  the  best  turn  outs  are  driven  without  a  check-rein. 
The  outstretched  neck  which  is  the  consequence,  has  a  sort 
of  Arab  or  blood  look,  probably  the  object  of  the  change ;  but 
the  drooping  head  when  the  horse  is  walking  or  standing 
seems  to  me  ugly  and  out  of  taste.  All  the  new  carriages  are 
built  near  the  ground.  The  low  parkphteton,  light  as  a  child's 
plaything  and  drawn  by  a  pair  of  ponies,  is  the  fashionable 
equipage.  I  saw  the  prettiest  thing  conceivable  of  this  kind 
yest'^vday  in  the  park — a  lady  driving  a  pair  of  small  cream- 
colored  horses  of  great  beauty,  with  her  two  children  in  the 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  "ENGLAND.  jqj 

pliseton,  and  two  grooms  behind  mounted  on  cream-colored 
saddle-horses,  all  four  of  the  animals  of  the  finest  shape  and 
action.  The  new  street  cabs  (precisely  the  old-fashioned  sedan- 
chair  suspended  between  four  wheels,  a  foot  from  the  ground) 
are  imitated  by  private  carriages,  and  driven  with  two  horses 
— ugly  enough.  The  cab-phaeton  is  in  great  fashion,  with 
either  one  or  two  horses.  The  race  of  ponies  is  greatly  im- 
proved since  I  was  in  England.  They  are  as  well  shaped  as  the 
large  horse,  with  very  fine  coats  and  great  spirit.  The  chil- 
dren of  the  nobility  go  scampering  through  the  park  upon 
them,  looking  like  horsemen  and  horsewomen  seen  through  a 
reversed  opera-glass.  They  are  scarce  larger  than  a  New- 
foundland dog,  but  they  patter  along  with  great  speed.  There 
is  one  fine  lad  of  about  eight  years,  whose  parents  seem  to 
have  very  little  care  for  his  neck,  and  who,  upon  a  fleet,  milk- 
white,  long  tailed  pony,  is  seen  daily  riding  at  a  rate  of  tw^elve 
miles  an  hour  through  the  most  crowded  streets,  with  a  servant 
on  a  tall  horse  plying  whip  and  spur  to  keep  up  with  him. 
The  whole  systerji  has  the  droll  effect  of  a  mixture  of  Lilliput 
and  Brobdignag. 

We  met  the  King  of  Oude  a  few  days  since  at  a  party,  and 
were  honored  by  an  invitation  to  dine  with  his  Majesty  at  his 
house  in  the  Eegent's  park.  Yesterday  was  the  appointed 
day ;  and  with  the  pleasant  anticipation  of  an  oriental  feast 
we  drove  up  at  seven,  and  were  received  by  his  turbaned 
ayahs,  who  took  shawl  and  hat  with  a  reverential  salaam,  and 
introduced  us  to  the  large  drawing-room  overlooking  the  park. 
The  King  was  not  yet  down ;  but  in  the  corner  sat  three 


182 


FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


parsees  or  fire  worshippers,  guests  like  ourselves,  who  in  their 
long  white  linen  robes,  bronze  faces,  and  high  caps,  looked 
like  anything  but  "  diners-out"  in  London.  To  our  surprise 
they  addressed  us  in  excellent  English,  and  we  were  told  after- 
ward that  they  were  all  learned  men — facts  not  put  down  to 
the  credit  of  the  Ghebirs  in  Lalla  E.ookh. 

We  were  call^  out  upon  the  balcony  to  look  at  a  balloon 
that  was  hovering  over  the  park,  and  on  stepping  back  into 
the  drawing-room,  we  found  the  company  all  assembled,  and 
our  royal  host  alone  wanting.  There  were  sixteen  English 
ladies  present,  and  five  white  gentlemen  beside  myself  The 
Orient,  however,  w\as  well  represented.  In  a  corner,  leaning 
silently  against  a  table,  stood  Prince  Hussein  Mirza,  the 
King's  cousin,  and  a  more  romantic  and  captivating  specimen 
of  Hindoo  beauty  could  scarcely  be  imagined.  He  was  slen- 
der, tall,  and  of  the  clearest  olive  complexion,  his  night-black 
hair  falling  over  his  shoulders  in  profusion,  and  his  large  an- 
telope eyes  fixed  with  calm  and  lustrous  surprise  upon  the 
half  denuded  forms  sitting  in  a  circle  before  him.  We  heard 
afterward  that  he  has  conceived  a  most  uncontrollable  and  un- 
happy passion  for  a  high-bom  English  girl  whom  he  met  in 
society,  and  that  it  is  with  difficulty  that  he  is  persuaded  to 
come  out  of  his  room.  His  dress  was  of  shawls  most  grace- 
fully draped  about  him,  and  a  cap  of  gold  cloth  was  thrown 
carelessly  on  the  side  of  his  head.  Altogether  he  was  like  a 
picture  of  the  imagination. 

A  middle-aged  stout  man,  ashy  black,  with  Grecian  features, 
and  a  most  determined  and  dignified  expression  of  mouth, 

sat  between  Lady and  Miss  Porter,  and  this  was  the 

Wa/ceel  or  ambassador  of  the  prince  of  Sutara,  by  name  Af 


SECOx\D  VISIT  TO  ENGLAND.  ^gg 


zul  Ali.  lie  ia  in  England  on  business  for  liis  master,  and  if 
he  does  not  succeed  it  will  be  no  fault  of  his  under  lip.  His 
secretary,  Keeram  Ali,  stood  behind  him — the  Wakeel  dressed 
in  shawls  of  bright  scarlet,  with  a  white  cashmere  turban, 
and  the  scribe  in  darker  stuffs  of  the  same  fashion.  Then 
there  was  the  King's  physician,  a  short,  wiry,  merry  looking, 
quick-eyed  Hindoo,  with  a  sort  of  quizzical  angle  in  the  pose 
of  his  turban  :  the  high-priest,  also  a  most  merry -looking  Orien- 
tal, and  Ali  Acbar,  a  Persian  attache.  I  think  these  were  all 
the  Asiatics. 

The  King  entered  in  a  few  minutes,  and  made  the  circuit 
of  the  room,  shaking  liands  most  cordially  with  all  his  guests. 
He  is  a  very  royal-looking  person  indeed.  Perhaps  you  might 
call  him  too  corpulent,  if  his  fine  height  (a  little  over  six  feet,) 
and  very  fine  proportions,  did  not  give  his  large  size  a  charac- 
ter of  majesty.  His  chest  is  full  and  round,  and  his  walk 
erect  and  full  of  dignity.  He  has  the  Italian  olive  complex- 
ion, with  straight  hair,  and  my  own  remark  at  first  seeing  him 
was  that  of  many  others,  "  How  like  a  bronze  cast  of  Napo- 
leon !"  The  subsequent  study  of  his  features  remove  this  im- 
pression, however,  for  he  is  a  most  "  merry  monarch,"  and  is 
seldom  seen  without  a  smile.  His  dress  was  a  mixture  of 
oriental  and  English  fashions — a  pair  of  baggy  blue  panta- 
loons, bound  around  the  waist  with  a  rich  shawl,  a  splendid 
scarlet  waistcoat  buttoned  close  over  his  spacious  chest,  and  a 
robe  of  a  very  fine  snuff-colored  cloth  something  like  a  loose 
dressing  gown  without  a  collar.  A  cap  of  silver  cloth,  and  a 
brilliant  blue-satin  cravat  completed  his  costume,  unless  in  his 
covering  should  be  reckoned  an  enormous  turquoise  ring, 
which  almost  entirely  concealed  one  of  his  fingers. 


184  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


Ekbal-ood-Dowdah^  Nawaub  of  Oade  (his  name  and  title)  is 
at  present  appealing  to  the  English  against  his  uncle,  who 
usurps  his  throne  by  the  aid  and  countenance  of  the  East  In- 
dia company.  The  Mohammedan  law,  as  I  understand,  em- 
powers a  king  to  choose  his  successor  from  his  children  with- 
out reference  to  primogeniture,  and  the  usurper,  though  au 
elder  brother,  having  been  imbecile  from  his  youth,  Ekbal's 
father  was  selected  by  the  then  king  of  Oude  to  succeed  him. 
The  question  having  been  referred  to  Lord  Wellesley,  how- 
ever, then  governor  of  India,  he  decided  that  the  English  law 
of  primogeniture  should  prevail,  or  in  other  words — as  the 
king's  friends  say — preferred  to  have  for  the  king  of  a  subject 
province  an  imbecile  who  would  give  him  no  trouble.  So 
slipped  from  the  Nawaub's  hands  a  pretty  kingdom  of  six 
millions  of  faithful  Mohammedans  !  I  believe  this  is  the 
"  short  "  of  the  story.  I  wonder  (we  are  reproached  so  very 
often  by  the  English  for  our  treatment  of  the  Indians)  whether 
a  counter-chapter  of"  expedient  wrong  "  might  not  be  made 
out  from  the  history  of  the  Indians  under  British  govern- 
ment in  the  East. 

Dinner  was  announced  with  a  Hindostanee  salaam,  and  the 

King  gave  his  arm  to  Lady .     The  rest  of  us  "  stood 

not  upon  the  order  of  our  going,"  and  I  found  myself  seated 
at  table  between  my  wife  and  a  Polish  Countess,  some  half- 
dozen  removes  from  the  Nawaub's  right  hand.  His  Highness 
commenced  helping  those  about  him  most  plentifully  from  a 
large  pillau,  talking  all  the  while  most  merrily  in  broken  Eng- 
lish, or  resorting  to  Hindostanee  and  his  interpreter  whenever 
bis  tongue  got  into  trouble.     \Vith  the  exception  of  one  or 


SECOND  VISIT  TO  ENGLAND.  jqs 


two  English  joints,  all  the  dishes  were  prepared  with  rice  or 
saffron,  and  (wine  being  forbidden  by  the  Mohammedan  law,) 
iced  water  was  served  round  from  Indian  coolers  freely.  For 
one,  I  would  have  compounded  for  a  bottle  of  wine  by  taking 
the  sin  of  the  entire  party  on  my  soul,  for,  what  with  the  ex- 
haustion of  a  long  London  day,  and  the  cloying  quality  of  the 
Nawaub's  rich  dishes,  I  began  to  be  sorry  I  had  not  brought 
a  flask  in  my  pocket.  His  Majesty's  spirits  seemed  to  require 
no  aid  from  wine.  He  talked  constantly,  and  shrewdly,  and 
well.  He  impresses  every  one  with  a  high  estimate  of  his 
talents,  though  a  more  complete  and  undisguised  child  of  na- 
ture I  never  saw.  Good  sense,  with  good  humor,  frankness, 
and  simplicity,  seem  to  be  his  leading  qualities. 

We  w^ere  obliged  to  take  our  leave  early  after  dinner,  hav- 
ing other  engagements  for  the  evening,  but  while  coffee  was 
serving,  the  Hindostanee  cook,  a  funny  little  old  man,  came 
in  to  receive«the  compliments  of  the  company  upon  his  dinner, 
and  to  play  and  dance  for  His  Majesty's  amusement.  He  had 
at  his  back  a  long  Indian  drum,  which  he  called  his  "  turn 
tum,"  and  playing  himself  an  accompaniment  upon  this,  he 
sang  two  or  three  comic  songs  in  his  own  language  to  a  sort 
of  wild  yet  merry  air,  very  much  to  the  delight  of  all  the 
orientals.  Singer,  dancer,  musician,  and  cook,  the  king  cer- 
tainly has  a  jewel  of  a  servant  in  him. 

One  moment  bowing  ourselves  out  from  the  presence  of  a 
Hindoo  king,  and  the  next  beset  by  an  Irishman  with  "  Hea- 
ven bless  your  honor  for  the  sixpence  you  mean  to  give  me !" 
what  contrasts  strike  the  traveller  in  this  great  heart  of  the 
world !  Paddy  lighted  us  to  our  carnage  with  his  lantern, 
implored  the  coachman  to  "  dhrive  carefully,"  and  then  stood 


18(5         FAMOUS  PEESONIS  AND  PLACES. 


with  his  head  beat  to  catch  the  sound  upon  the  pavement  of 
another  sixpence  for  his  tenderness.  Wherever  there  is  a 
party  in  the  fashionable  quarters  of  London,  these  Tantaluses 
flit  about  with  their  lanterns — for  ever  at  the  door  of  pleasure, 
yet  shivering  and  starving  for  ever  in  their  rags.  What  a  life  I 
*  *  ♦  ♦  * 

One  of  the  most  rational  and  agreeable  of  the  fashionable 
resorts  in  London  is  Kensington  Gardens,  on  the  days  when 
the  royal  band  plays,  from  live  to  seven  o'clock,  near  the 
bridge  of  the  Serpentine.  Some  twenty  of  the  best  instru- 
mental musicians  of  London  station  themselves  under  the 
trees  in  this  superb  park — for  though  called  "  gardens,"  it  is 
but  a  park  with  old  trees  and  greensward — and  up  and  down 
the  fine  silky  carpet  sJtroU  hundreds  of  the  fashionables  of 
"  May  Fair  and  Belgrave  Square,"  listening  a  little,  perhaps, 
and  chattering  a  great  deal  certainly.  It  is  a  good  opportu- 
nity to  see  what  celebrated  beauties  look  likt%  by  daylight ; 
and,  truth  to  say,  one  comes  to  the  conclusion,  there,  that 
candle-light  is  your  true  Lalydor.  It  is  very  ingeniously  con- 
trived by  the  grand  chamberlain  that  this  public  music 
should  be  played  in  a  far-away  corner  of  the  park,  inaccessi- 
ble except  by  those  who  have  carriages.  The  plebeians,  for 
whose  use  and  pleasure  it  seems  at  first  sight  graciously  con- 
trived, are  pretty  well  sifted  by  the  two  miles  walk,  and  a  very 
aristocratic  and  well  dressed  assembly  indeed  is  that  of  Ken 
sington  Gardens. 

Near  the  usual  stand  of  the  musicians  runs  a  bridle  path 
for  horsemen,  separated  from  the  greensward  by  a  sunk 
fence,  and  as  I  was  standing  by  the  edge  of  the  ditch  yes- 


SECOND   VISIT  TO  ENGLAND.  187 

terday,  the  Queen  rode  by,  pulling  up  to  listen  to  the  mu- 
sic, and  smile  right  and  left  to  the  crowd  of  cavaliers 
drawn  up  in  the  road.  I  pulled  off  my  hat  and  stood  unco- 
vered instinctively,  but  looking  around  to  see  how  the  prome- 
uaders  received  her,  I  found  to  my  surprise  that  with  the  ex- 
ception of  a  bald-headed  nobleman  whom  I  chanced  to  know, 
the  Yankee  stood  alone  in  his  homage  to  her. 


EGLINGTON    TOURNAMENT. 


That  Irish  channel  has,  as  the  English  say,  "  a  nasty  way 
with  it."  I  embarked  at  noon  on  the  26th,  in  a  magnificent 
steamer,  the  Royal  Sovereign,  which  had  been  engaged  by 
Lord  Eglington  (aa  per  advertisement)  to  set  down  at  Ardros- 
san  all  passengers  bound  to  the  tournament.  This  was  a 
seventeen  hours' job,  including  a  very  cold,  blowy,  and  rough 
night;  and  of  the  two  hundred  passengers  on  board,  one  half 
were  so  blest  as  to  have  berths  or  settees — the  others  were 
unblesty  indeed. 

I  found  on  board  several  Americans ;  and  by  the  time  I  had 

looked  at  the  shape  of  the  Liverpool  harbor  and  seen  one  or 

two  vessels  run  in  before  a  slapping  breeze,   the  premonitory 

symptom  (which  had  already  sent  many  to  their  berths)  sent 

me  to  mine.     The  boat  was  pitching  backward  and  forward 

•with  a  sort  of  handsaw  action  that  was  not  endurable.     By 

foregoing  my  dinner  and  preserving  a  horizontal  position  I 

[188] 


EGLINTON  TOURNAMENT.  Igg 

escaped  all  sickness,  and  landed  at  Ardrossan  at  six  the  next 
morning  with  a  thirty-six  hours^  fast  upon  me,  which  I  trusted 
my  incipient  gout  would  remember  as  ape?'  contra  to  the  feast 
in  the  promised  "  banquet." 

Ardrossan,  built  chiefly,  I  believe,  by  Lord  Eglington's 
family,  and  about  eight  miles  from  the  castle,  is  a  small  but 
very  clean  and  thrifty  looking  hamlet  on  that  part  of  the  west- 
ern coast  of  Scotland  which  lies  opposite  the  Isle  of  Arran. 
Ailsa  rock,  famous  in  song,  slumbers  like  a  cloud  on  the 
south-western  horizon.  The  long  breakers  of  the  channel  lay 
their  lines  of  foam  almost  upon  the  street,  and  the  harbor  is 
formed  by  a  pier  jutting  out  from  a  little  promontory  on  the 
northern  extremity  of  the  town.  The  one  thoroughfare  of 
Ardrossan  is  kept  clean  by  the  broom  of  every  wind  that  sweeps 
the  Irish  sea.     A  cleaner  or  bleaker  spot  I  never  saw. 

A  Gael,  who  did  not  comprehend  a  syllable  of  such  Eng- 
lish as  a  Yankee  delivers,  shouldered  my  portmanteau  without 
direction  or  request,  and  travelled  away  to  the  inn,  where  he 
deposited  it  and  held  out  his  hand  in  silence.  There  was  cer- 
tainly quite  enough  said  between  us ;  and  remembering  the 
boisterous  accompaniment  with  which  the  claims  of  porters 
are  usually  pushed  upon  one's  notice,  I  could  well  wish  that 
Gaelic  tide-waiters  were  more  common. 

"  Any  room,  landlord  ?"  was  the  first  question.  "  Not  a  cup- 
board, sir,"  was  the  answer. — "  Can  you  give  me  some  break- 
fast ?"  asked  fifty  others  in  a  breath. — "  Breakfast  will  be  put 
upon  all  the  tables  presently,  gentlemen,"  said  the  dismayed 
Boniface,  glancing  at  the  crowds  who  were  pouring  in,  and, 
Scotchmanlike,  making  no  promises  to  individuals. — "  Land- 
lord !"  vociferated  a  gentleman  from  the  other  Bid©  of  the 


j90  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


hall — "  what  the  devil  does  this  mean  ?  Here's  the  room  I 
engaged  a  fortnight  ago  occupied  by  a  dozen  people  shaving 
and  dressing  !" — "  I  canna  help  it,  sir  !  Ye're  welcome  to 
to  turn  'em  a'  out — if  ije  canP'^  said  the  poor  man,  lifting  up 
his  hands  in  despair,  and  retreating  to  the  kitchen.  The  hint 
was  a  good  one,  and  taking  up  my  own  portmanteau,  I  opened 
a  door  in  one  of  the  passages.  It  led  into  a  small  apartment, 
which,  in  more  roomy  times  might  have  been  a  pantry,  but 
was  now  occupied  by  three  beds  and  a  great  variety  of  bag- 
gage. There  was  a  twopenny  glass  on  the  mantel-piece,  and 
a  drop  or  two  of  water  in  a  pitcher,  and  where  there  were 
sheets  I  could  make  shift  for  a  towel.  I  found  presently,  by 
the  way,  that  I  had  had  a  narrow  escape  of  surprising  some 
one  in  bed,  for  the  sheet  which  did  duty  as  a  napkin  was  still 
warm  with  pressure  of  the  newly-fled  occupant. 

Three  or  four  smart-looking  damsels  in  caps  looked  in  while 
I  was  engaged  in  my  toilet,  and  this,  with  one  or  two  slight 
observations  made  in  the  apartment,  convinced  me  that  I  had 
intruded  on  the  dormitory  of  the  ladies'  maids  belonging  to  the 
various  parties  in  the  house.  A  hurried  ''  God  bless  us !"  as 
they  retreated,  however,  was  all  either  of  reproach  or  remon- 
strance that  I  was  troubled  with  ;  and  I  emerged  with  a  smooth 
chin  in  time  for  breakfast,  very  much  to  the  envy  and  surprise 
of  my  less-enterprising  companions. 

There  was  a  great  scramble  for  the  tea  and  toast ;  but  unit- 
ing forces  witli  a  distinguished  literary  man  whose  acquain- 
tance I  had  been  fortunate  enough  to  make  on  board  the 
the  steamer,  we  managed  to  get  places  at  one  of  the  tables, 
and  achieved  our  breakfasts  in  tolerable  comfort.  We  wero 
still  eigh  t  miles  from  Eglington,  however,  and  a  lodging  w£W 


EGLINTON  TOURNAMENT.  jgj 


the  next  matter  of  moment.  My  friend  thought  he  was  pro- 
vided for  nearer  the  castle,  and  I  went  into  the  street,  which 
I  found  crowded  with  distressed  looking  people,  flying  from 
door  to  door,  with  ladies  on  their  arms  and  wheelbarrows  of 
baggage  at  their  heels,  the  townspeople  standing  at  the  doors 
and  corners  staring  at  the  novel  spectacle  in  open  mouthed 
wonder.  Quite  in  a  dilemma  whether  or  not  to  go  on  to  Ir- 
vine (which,  being  within  two  miles  of  the  castle,  was  proba- 
bly much  more  over  run  than  Ardrossan)  I  was  standing  at 
the  corner  of  the  street,  when  a  Liverpool  gentleman,  whoso 
kindness  I  must  record  as  well  as  my  pleasure  in  his  society 
for  the  two  or  three  days  we  were  together,  came  up  and  of- 
fered me  a  part  of  a  lodging  he  had  that  moment  taken.  The 
bed  was  what  we  call  in  America  a  hunk^  or  a  kind  of  berth 
sunk  into  the  wall,  and  there  were  two  in  the  same  garret,  but 
the  sheets  were  clean ;  and  there  was  a  large  Bible  on  the 
table — the  latter  a  warrant  for  civility,  neatness,  and  honesty, 
which,  after  many  years  of  travel,  I  have  never  found  decep- 
tive. I  closed  immediately  with  my  friend  ;  and  whether  it 
was  from  a  smack  of  authorship  or  no,  I  must  say  I  took  to 
my  garret  very  kindly. 

It  was  but  nine  o'clock,  and  the  day  was  on  my  hands. 
Just  beneath  the  window  ran  a  railroad,  built  to  bring  coal  to 
the  seaside,  and  extending  to  within  a  mile  of  the  castle ;  and 
with  some  thirty  or  forty  others,  I  embarked  in  a  horse  car  for 
Eglinton  to  see  the  preparations  for  the  following  day's  tour- 
nament. We  were  landed  near  the  park  gate,  after  an  hour's 
drive  through  a  flat  country  blackened  with  coal  pits  ;  and  it 
was  with  no  little  relief  to  the  eye  that  I  entered  upon  a 
smooth  and  gravelled  avenue,  leading  by  a  mile  of  shaded 


192  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


Tvindings  to  the  castle.  The  day  was  heavenly ;  the  sun- 
flecks  lay  bright  as  "patines  of  gold  "  on  the  close-shaven 
grass  beneath  the  trees ;  and  I  thought  that  nature  had  con- 
sented for  once  to  remove  her  eternal  mist  veil  from  Scotland, 
and  let  pleasure  and  sunshine  have  a  holiday  together.  The 
sky  looked  hard  and  deep ;  and  I  had  no  more  apprehension 
of  rain  for  the  morrow  than  I  should  have  had  under  a  July 
sun  in  Asia. 

Crossing  a  bright  little  river  (the  Lugton  I  think  it  is  called) 
whose  eloping  banks,  as  far  as  I  could  see  up  and  down,  were 
shaven  to  the  rich  smoothness  of"  velvet  of  three-pile,"  Icamo 
in  sight  of  the  castle  towers.  Another  bridge  over  a  winding 
of  the  same  river  lay  to  the  left,  a  Gothic  structure  of  the 
most  rich  and  airy  mould,  and  from  either  end  of  this  extend- 
ed the  enclosed  passage  for  the  procession  to  the  lists.  The 
castle  stood  high  upon  a  mound  beyond.  Its  round  towers 
were  half  concealed  by  some  of  the  finest  trees  I  ever  saw — 
and  though  less  antique  and  of  a  less  frowning  and  rude  as- 
pect than  I  had  expected,  it  was  a  very  perfect  specimen  of 
modern  castellated  architecture.  On  ascending  to  the  lawn 
in  front  of  the  castle,  I  found  that  it  was  built  less  upon  a 
mound  than  upon  the  brow  of  a  broad  plateau  of  table-land, 
turned  sharply  by  the  Lugton,  cloSb  under  the  castle  walls — 
a  natural  site  of  singular  beauty.  Two  Saracenic  looking 
tents  of  the  gayest  colors  were  pitched  upon  the  bright  green 
lawn  at  a  short  distance,  and  off  to  the  left,  by  several  glimpses 
through  the  trees,  I  traced  along  the  banks  of  the  river  the 
winding  enclosures  for  the  procession. 

The  large  hall  was  crowded  with  servants;  but  presuming 
that  a  knigbt  who  was  to  do  his  devoir  so  conspicuously  on 


EGLINTON  TOURNAMENT.  J93 


the  morrow  would  not  bo  stirring  at  so  early  an  hour,  I  took 
merely  a  ghmce  of  the  armor  upon  the  walls  in  passing,  and 
deferring  the  honor  of  paying  my  respects,  crossed  the  lawn 
and  passed  over  the  Lugton  by  a  rustic  footbridge  in  search 
of  the  lists.  A  crosspath  (leading  by  a  small  temple  enclosed 
with  wire  netting,  once  an  aviary,  perhaps,  but  now^  hung 
around  in  glorious  profusion  with  game,  vension,  a  boar's  head, 
and  other  comestibles,)  brought  me  in  two  or  three  minutes  to 
a  hill-side  overlooking  the  chivalric  arena.  It  was  a  beautiful 
sight  of  itself  without  plume  or  armor.  In  the  centre  of  a  ver- 
dant plain,  shut  in  by  hills  of  an  easy  slope,  wooded  richly, 
appeared  an  oblong  enclosure  glittering  at  either  end  with  a 
cluster  of  tents,  striped  with  the  gayest  colors  of  the  rainbow. 
Between  them,  on  the  farther  side,  stood  three  galleries,  of 
which  the  centre  was  covered  with  a  Gothic  roof  highly 
ornamented,  the  four  front  pillars  draped  with  blue  damask, 
and  supporting  a  canopy  over  the  throne  intended  for  the 
Queen  of  Beauty.  A  strongly-built  barrier  extended  through 
the  lists ;  and  heaps  of  lances,  gay  flags,  and  the  heraldic 
ornaments,  still  to  be  added  to  the  tents,  lay  around  on  the 
bright  grass  in  a  picture  of  no  little  richness.  I  was  glad  af- 
terward that  I  had  seen  thus  much  with  the  advantage  of  an 
unclouded  sun. 

In  returning,  I  passed  in  the  rear  of  the  castle,  and  looked 
into  the  temporary  pavilions  erected  for  the  banquet  and  ball. 
They  were  covered  exteriorly  with  rough  board  and  sails,  and 
communicated  by  an  enclosed  gallery  with  one  of  the  larger 
apartments  of  the  castle.  The  workmen  were  still  nailing  up 
the  drapery,  and  arranging  lamps ^nd  flowers  ;  but  with  all  this 

disadvantage,  the  effect  of  the  two  immense  halls,  lined  as  they 
9 


194 


FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


were  with  crimson  and  white  in  broad  alternate  stripes,  resem- 
bling in  shape  and  fashion  two  gigantic  tents,  was  exceed- 
ingly imposing.  Hud  the  magnificent  design  of  Lord  Eglin- 
ton  been  successfully  carried  out  it  would  have  been  a  scene, 
with  the  splendor  of  the  costumes,  the  lights,  music,  and 
revelry  unsurpassed  probably  by  anything  short  of  enchant- 
ment. 


Principal  Day. — I  was  awakened  at  an  early  hour  the  morn- 
ing after  arriving  at  Ardrossan  by  a  band  of  music  in  the  street 
My  first  feeling  was  delight  at  seeing  a  bit  of  blue  sky  of  the  size 
of  my  garret  skylight,  and  a  dazzling  sunshine  on  the  floor. 
"  Skirling"  above  all  other  instruments  of  the  band,  the  High- 
land bagpipe  made  the  air  reel  with  "  A'  the  blue  bonnets  are 
over  the  border,"  and,  hoisting  the  window  above  my  head,  I 
strained  over  the  house-leads  to  look  at  the  performer.  A  band 
of  a  dozen  men  in  kilt  and  bonnet  were  marching  up  and -down, 
led  by  a  piper,  something  in  the  face  like  the  heathen  repre- 
sentations of  Boreas ;  and  on  a  line  of  roughly-constructed 
rail-cars  were  piled,  two  or  three  deep,  a  crowd  resembling  at 
first  sight,  a  crushed  bed  of  tulips.  Bonnets  of  every  cut  and 
color,  from  the  courtier's  green  velvet  to  the  shepherd's  home- 
ly gray,  struggled  at  the  top  ;  and  over  the  sides  hung  red  legs 
and  yellow  legs,  cross  barred  stockings  and  buflf  boots,  bare  feet 
and  pilgrim's  sandals.  The  masqueraders  scolded  and  laughed, 
the  boys  halloed,  the  quiet  people  of  Ar<drossan  stared  in  grave 
astonishment,  and,  with  the  assistance  of  some  brawny  shoul- 


EGMNTON  TOUKAMENT.  195 


ders,  applied  to  the  sides  of  the  overladen  vehicles,  the  one 
unhappy  horse  got  his  whimsical  load  under  v^ray  for  the  tour- 
nament. 

Train  followed  train,  packed  with  the  same  motley  array ; 
and  at  ten  o'clock,  after  a  clean  and  comfortable  Scotch 
breakfast  in  our  host's  little  parlor,  we  sallied  forth  to  try  our 
luck  in  the  scramble  for  places.  After  a  considerable  fight 
we  were  seated,  each  with  a  man  in  his  lap,  when  we  were 
ordered  down  by  the  conductor,  who  informed  us  that  the 
Chief  of  the  Campbells  had  taken  the  car  for  his  party,  and 
that,  with  his  band  in  the  succeeding  one,  he  was  to  go  in 
state  (upon  a  railroad  !)  to  Eglinton.  Up  swore  half  a-dozen 
Glasgow  people,  usurpers  like  ourselves,  that  they  would  give 
way  for  no  Campbell  in  the  world  ;  and  finding  a  stout  hand 
laid  on  my  leg  to  prevent  my  yielding  to  the  order  to  quit,  I 
gave  in  to  what  might  be  called  as  pretty  a  bit  of  rebelUous 
republicanism  as  you  would  find  on  the  Mississippi.  The 
conductor  stormed,  but  the  Scotch  bodies  sat  firm ;  and  as 
Scot  met  Scot  in  the  fight,  I  was  content  to  sit  in  silence  and 
take  advantage  of  the  victory.  I  learned  afterwards  that  the 
Campbell  Chieftain  was  a  Glasgow  manufacturer  ;  and  though 
he  undoubtedly  had  a  right  to  gather  his  clan,  and  take  piper 
and  eagle's  plume,  there  might,  possibly,  be  some  jealous 
disapprobation  at  the  bottom  of  his  townsmen's  rudeness. 

Campbell  and  bis  party  presently  appeared,  and  a  dozen  or 
twenty  very  fine-looking  men  they  were.  One  of  the  ladies, 
as  well  as  I  could  see  through  the  black  lace  veil  thrown  over 
her  cap  and  plumes,  was  a  remarkably  handsome  woman,  and 
I  was  very  glad  when  the  matter  was  compromised,  and  the 
Campbells  distributed  among  our  company.      We  jogged  on 


196        FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


at  a  slow  pace  toward  the  tournament,  passing  thousands  of 
pedestrians,  the  men  all  shod,  and  the  women  all  barefoot, 
with  their  shoes  in  their  hands,  and  nearly  every  one,  in  ac- 
cordance with  Lord  Eglinton's  printed  request,  showing  some 
touch  of  fancy  in  his  dress.  A  plaid  over  the  shoulder,  or  a 
Glengary  bonnet,  or,  perhaps,  a  goose-feather  stuck  jauntily 
in  the  cap,  was  enough  to  show  the  feeling  of  the  wearer,  and 
quite  enough  to  give  the  crowd,  all  in  all,  a  most  festal  and 
joyous  aspect. 

The  secluded  bit  of  road  between  the  rail  track  and  the 
castle  lodge,  probably  never  before  disturbed  by  more  than 
two  vehicles  at  a  time,  was  thronged  with  a  press  of  wheels, 
as  closely  jammed  as  Fleet  street  at  noon.  Countrymen's 
carts  piled  with  women  and  children  like  loads  of  market  bas- 
kets in  Kent;  post  chaises  with  exhausted  horses  and  occu- 
pants straining  their  eyes  forward  for  a  sight  of  the  castle ; 
carriages  of  the  neighboring  gentry  with  "  bodkins"  and  over- 
packed  dickeys,  all  in  costume ;  stout  farmers  on  horseback, 
with  plaid  and  bonnet ;  gingerbread  and  ale  carts,  pony  carts, 
and  coal  carts  ;  wheelbarrows  with  baggage,  and  porters  with 
carpet  bags  and  hat  boxes,  were  mixed  up  in  merry  confusion 
with  the  most  motley  throng  of  pedestrians  it  has  ever  been 
my  fortune  to  join.  The  varicolored  tide  poured  in  at  the 
open  gate  of  the  castle  ;  and  if  I  had  seen  no  other  procession, 
the  long-extended  mass  of  caps,  bonnets,  and  plumes,  wind- 
ing through  that  shaded  and  beautiful  avenue,  would  have 
repaid  me  for  no  small  proportion  of  my  subsequent  discom- 
fort. I  remarked,  by  the  way,  that  I  did  not  see  a  hat  in  the 
entire  mile  betweenrthe  porter's  lodge  and  the  castle. 


BGLINTON  TOURNAlklENT.  197 


The  stables,  which  lay  on  the  left  of  the  approach  (a  large 
square  structure  with  turret  and  clock,  very  like  four  Metho- 
dist churches,  dosados,)  presented  another  busy  and  pictur- 
esque scene — horses  half  caparisoned,  men  at- arms  in  buff  and 
steel,  and  the  gay  liveries  of  the  nineteenth  century  paled  by 
the  revived  glories  of  the  servitude  of  more  knightly  times. 
And  this  part  of  the  scene,  too,  had  its  crowd  of  laughing  and 
wondering  spectators. 

On  reaching  the  Gothic  bridge  over  the  Lugton,  we  came 
upon  a  cordon  of  police  who  encircled  the  castle,  turning  the 
crowd  off  by  the  bridge  in  the  direction  of  the  lists.  Sorry  to 
leave  my  merry  and  motley  fellow-pedestrians,  I  presented  my 
card  of  invitation  and  passed  on  alone  to  the  castle.  The  sun 
was  at  this  time  shining  with  occasional  cloudings-over ;  and 
the  sward  and  road,  after  the  two  or  three  fine  days  we  had 
had,  were  in  the  best  condition  for  every  purpose  of  the  tour- 
nament. 

Two  or  three  noble  trees  with  their  foliage  nearly  to  the 
ground  stood  between  me  and  the  front  of  the  castle,  as  I  as- 
cended the  slope  above  the  river ;  and  the  lifting  of  a  stage- 
curtain  could  scarce  be  more  sudden,  or  the  scene  of  a  drama, 
more  effectively  composed,  than  the  picture  disclosed  by  the 
last  step  upon  the  terrace.  Any  just  description  of  it,  indeed, 
must  read  like  a  passage  from  the  "  prompter's  book."  I 
stood  for  a  moment,  exactly  where  you  would  have  placed  an 
audience.  On  my  left  rose  a  noble  castle  with  four  round 
towers,  the  entrance  thronged  with  men-at-arms,  and  comers 
and  goers  in  every  variety  of  costume.  On  the  greensward  in 
front  of  the  castle  lounged  three  or  four  gentlemen  archers  in 
Buits  of  green  silk  and  velvet.  A  cluster  of  grooms  under  an  im« 


198  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

mense  tree  on  the  right  were  fitting  two  or  three  superb  horses 
with  their  armor  and  caparisons,  while  one  beautiful  blood  pal- 
frey, whose  fine  limbs  and  delicately  veined  head  and  neck  were 
alone  visible  under  his  embroidered  saddle  and  gorgeous  trap- 
pings of  silk,  was  held  by  two  "  tigers"  at  a  short  distance.  Still 
farther  on  the  right,  stood  a  cluster  of  gayly  decorated  tents ; 
and  in  and  out  of  the  looped-up  curtain  of  the  farthest  passed 
constantly  the  slight  forms  of  lady  archers  in  caps  with  snowy 
plumes,  kirtles  of  green  velvet,  and  petticoats  of  white  satin, 
quivers  at  their  backs  and  bows  in  their  hands — one  tall  and 
stately  girl  (an  Ayrshire  lady  of  very  uncommon  beauty, 
whose  name  I  took  some  pains  to  inquire,)  conspicuous  by  her 
grace  and  dignity  above  all. 

The  back-ground  was  equally  well  composed — the  farther 
side  of  the  lawn  making  a  sharp  descent  to  the  small  river 
which  bends  around  the  castle,  the  opposite  shore  thronged 
with  thousands  of  spectators  watching  the  scene  I  have 
described  ;  and  in  the  distance  behind  them,  the  winding 
avenue,  railed  in  for  the  procession,  hidden  and  disclosed  by 
turns  among  the  noble  trees  of  the  park,  and  alive  throughout 
its  whole  extent  with  the  multitudes  crowding  to  the  lists. 
There  was  a  chivalric  splendor  in  the  whole  scene,  which  I 
thought  at  the  time  would  repay  one  for  a  long  pilgrimage  to 
see -it — even  should  the  clouds,  which  by  this  time  were  com- 
ing up  very  threateningly  from  the  horizon,  put  a  stop  to  the 
tournament  altogether. 

On  entering  the  castle  hall,  a  lofty  room  hung  round  with 
arms,  trophies  of  the  chase,  ancient  shields,  and  armor  of 
every  description,  I  found  myself  in  a  crowd  of  a  very  merry 
and  rather  a  motley  character — knights  half  armed,  esquires 


EGLINTON  TOURNAMENT.  199 

in  buff,  palmers,  halberdiers,  archers,  and  servants  in  modern 
livery,  here  and  there  a  lady,  and  here  and  there  a  spectator 
like  myself,  and  in  a  corner  by  one  of  the  Gothic  windows — 
what  think  you  ? — a  minstrel  ? — a  gray-haired  harper  ? — a 
jester  ?  Guess  again — a  reporter  for  the  Times !  With  a 
"  walking  dictionary"  at  his  elbow,  in  the  person  of  the  fat 
butler  of  the  castle,  he  was  inquiring  out  the  various  charac- 
ters in  the  crowd,  and  the  rapidity  of  his  stenographic  jottings- 
down  (with  their  lucid  apparition  in  print  two  days  after  in 
London)  would  in  the  times  represented  by  the  costumes 
about  him,  have  burnt  him  at  the  stake  for  a  wizard  with  the 
consent  of  every  knight  in  Christendom. 

I  was  received  by  the  knight-marshal  of  the  lists,  who  did 
the  honors  of  hospitality  for  Lord  Eglington  during  his  pre- 
paration for  the  "  passage  of  arms ;"  and  finding  an  old  friend 
under  the  gray  beard  and  scallop  shell  of  a  venerable 
palmer,  whose  sandal  and  bare  toes  I  chanced  to  stumble  over, 
w'e  passed  in  together  to  the  large  dining  room  of  the  castle. 
^*  Lunch"  was  on  the  long  table,  and  some  two  hundred  of  the 
earl's  out-lodging  guests  were  busy  at  knife  and  fork,  while 
here  and  there  were  visible  some  of  those  anachronisms  which, 
to  me,  made  the  zest  of  the  tournament — pilgrims  eating  Feri- 
gordpies^  esquires  dressing  after  the  manner  of  the  thirteenth 
century  diving  most  scientifically  into  the  richer  veins  of  pates 
de  foie-gras^  dames  in  ruff  and  farthingale  discussing  blue 
blanc-mange,  and  a  knight  with  an  over-night  headache  calling 
out  for  a  cup  of  tea  ! 

On  returning  to  the  hall  of  the  castle,  which  was  the  princi- 
pal place  of  assemblage,  I  saw  with  no  little  regret  that  ladies 
were  coming  from  their  carriages  under  umbrellas.     The  fair 


200        FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

firchers  tripped  in  doors  from  their  crowded  tent,  the  knight 
of  the  dragon,  who  had  been  out  to  look  after  his  charger, 
was  being  wiped  dry  by  a  friendly  pocket  handkerchief,  and 
all  countenances  had  fallen  with  the  barometer.  It  was  time 
for  the  procession  to  start,  however,  and  the  knights  appeared, 
one  by  one,  armed  capapie,  all  save  the  helmet,  till  at  last  the 
hall  was  crowded  with  steel-clad  and  chivalric  forms  ;  and  they 
waited  only  for  the  advent  of  the  Queen  of  Beauty.  After 
admiring  not  a  little  the  manly  bearing  and  powerful  "  thewes 
and  sinews  ''  displayed  by  the  array  of  modern  English  nobil- 
ity in  the  trying  costumes  and  harness  of  olden  time,  1  step- 
ped out  upon  the  lawn  with  some  curiosity  to  see  how  so 
much  heavy  metal  was  to  be  got  into  a  demipique  saddle. 
After  one  or  two  ineffectual  attempts,  foiled  partly  by  the 
restlessness  of  his  horse,  the  first  knight  called  ingloriously  for 
a  chair.  Another  scrambled  over  with  great  difficulty  ;  and 
I  fancy,  though  Lord  Waterford  and  Lord  Eglinton,  and  one 
other  whom  I  noticed,  mounted  very  gallantly  and  gracefully, 
the  getting  to  saddle  was  possibly  the  most  difficult  feat  of 
the  day.  The  ancient  achievement  of  leaping  on  the  steed's 
back  from  the  ground  in  complete  armor  would  certainly  have 
broken  the  spine  of  any  horse  present,  and  was  probably  never 
done  but  in  story.  Once  in  the  *  saddle,  however,  English 
horsemanship  told  well ;  and  one  of  the  finest  sights  of  the 
day  I  thought  was  the  breaking  away  of  a  powerful  horse 
from  the  grooms,  before  his  rider  had  gathered  up  his  reins, 
and  a  career  at  furious  speed  through  the  open  park,  during 
which  the  steel  encumbered  horseman  rode  as  safely  as  a  fox- 
hunter,  and  subdued  the  affrighted  animal,  and  brought  him 


EGLINTON   TOURNAMENT.  2OI 


Dack   in   a   sfylo    worthy    of  a   wreath  from  the  Queen  of 
Beauty. 

Driven  in  by  the  rain,  I  was  standing  at  the  upper  side  of 
the  hall,  when  a  movement  in  the  crowd  and  an  unusual 
"  making-way"  announced  the  coming  of  the  ''  cynosure  of  all 
eyes."  She  entered  from  the  interior  of  the  castle  with  her 
train  held  up  by  two  beautiful  pages  of  ten  or  twelve  years 
of  age,  and  attended  by  two  fair  and  very  young  maids  of 
honor.  Her  jacket  of  ermine,  her  drapery  of  violet  and  blue 
velvet,  the  collars  of  superb  jewels  which  embraced  her  throat 
and  bosom,  and  her  sparkling  crown,  were  on  her  (what  they 
seldom  are,  but  should  be  only)  mere  accessaries  to  her  own 
predominating  and  radiant  beauty.  Lady  Seymour's  features 
are  as  nearly  faultless  as  is  consistent  with  expression ;  her 
figure  and  face  are  rounded  to  the  complete  fulness  of  the 
mould  for  a  Juno  ;  her  walk  is  queenly,  and  peculiarly  unstu- 
died and  graceful,  yet  (I  could  not  but  think  then  and  since) 
she  was  not  well  chosen  for  the  Queen  of  a  Tournament.  The 
character  df  her  beauty,  uncommon  and  perfect  as  it  is,  is  that 
of  delicacy  and  loveliness — the  lily  rather  than  the  rose — the 
modest  pearl,  not  the  imperial  diamond.  The  eyes  to  flash 
over  a  crowd  at  a  tournament,  to  be  admired  from  a  distance, 
to  beam  down  upon  a  knight  kneeling  for  a  public  award  of 
honor,  should  be  full  of  command,  dark,  lustrous,  and  fiery. 
Hers  are  of  the  sweetest  and  most  tranquil  blue  that  ever  re- 
flected the  serene  heaven  of  a  happy  hearth — eyes  to  love,  not 
wonder  at,  to  adore  and  rely  upon,  not  admire  and  tremble 
for.  At  the  distance  at  which  most  of  the  spectators  of  the 
tournament  saw  Lady  Seymour,  Fanny  Kemble's  stormy  orbs 

would  have  shown  much  finer,  and  the  forced  and  imperative 
9* 


202  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


.  action  of  a  stage-taught  head  and  figure  would  have  been 
more  applauded  than  the  quiet,  nameless,  and  indescribable 
grace  lost  to  all  but  those  immediately  round  her.  I  had  seen 
the  Queen  of  Beauty  in  a  small  society,  dressed  in  simple 
white,  without  an  ornament,  when  she  was  far  more  becom- 
ingly dressed  and  more  beautiful  than  here,  and  I  have  never 
seen,  since,  the  engravings  and  prints  of  Lady  Seymour 
which  fill  every  window  in  the  London  shops,  without  feeling 
that  it  was  a  profanation  of  a  style  of  loveliness  that  would 
be— 

"  prodigal  enough 

If  it  unveiled  its  beauty  to  the  moon." 

The  day  wore  on,  and  the  knight- marshal  of  the  lists,  (Sir 
Charles  Lamb,  the  stepfather  of  Lord  Eglinton,  by  far  the 
most  knightly  looking  person  at  the  tournament,)  appeared  in 
his  rich  surcoat  and  embossed  armor,  and  with  a  despairing 
look  at  the  increasing  torrents  of  rain,  gave  the  order  to  get 
to  horse.  At  the  first  blast  of  the  trumpet,  the  thick-leaved 
trees  around  the  castle  gave  out  each  a  dozen  or  two  of  gay- 
colored  horsemen  who  had  stood  almost  unseen  under  the  low 
hanging  branches — mounted  musicians  in  silk  and  gay  trap- 
pings, mounted  men-at-arms  in  demi-suits  of  armor,  deputy 
marshals  and  halberdiers;  and  around  the  western  tower, 
where  their  caparisons  had  been  arranged  and  their  horse 
armor  carefully  looked  to,  rode  the  glittering  and  noble  com- 
pany of  knights,  Lord  Eglinton  in  his  armor  of  inlaid  gold, 
and  Lord  Alford,  with  his  athletic  frame  and  very  handsome 
features,  conspicuous  above  all.  The  rain,  meantime,  spared 
neither  the  rich  tabard  of  the  pursuivant,  nor  the  embroidered 
saddle  cloths  of  the  queen's  impatient  palfrey :  and  after  a 


EGLINTON  TOURAlklENT.  ,  gQg 


half-dozen  of  dripping  detachments  had  formed  and  led  on,  as 
the  head  of  the  procession,  the  lady  archers — who  were  to  go 
on  foot — were  called  by  the  marshal  with  a  smile  and  a  glance 
upward  which  might  have  been  construed  into  a  tacit  advice 
to  stay  in  doors.  Gracefully  and  majestically,  however,  with 
quiver  at  her  back,  and  bow  in  hand,  the  tall  and  fair  archer 
of  whose  uncommon  beauty  I  have  already  spoken,  stepped 
from  the  castle  door;  and,  regardless  of  the  rain  which  fell 
in  drops  as  large  as  pearls  on  her  unprotected  forehead  and 
snowy  shoulders,  she  took  her  place  in  the  procession  with  her 
silken-booted  troop  picking  their  way  very  gingerly  over  the 
pools  behind  her.  Slight  as  the  circumstance  may  seem,  there 
was  in  the  manner  of  the  lady,  and  her  calm  disregard  of  self 
in  the  cause  she  had  undertaken,  which  would  leave  me  in  no 
doubt  where  to  look  for  a  heroine  were  the  days  of  Wallace, 
(whose  compatriot  she  is)  to  come  over  again.  The  knight- 
marshal  put  spurs  to  his  horse,  and  re-ordered  the  little 
troop  to  the  castle ;  and  regretting  that  I  had  not  the  honor 
of  the  lady's  acquaintance  for  my  authority,  I  performed  my 
only  chivalric  achievement  for  the  day,  the  sending  a  halber- 
dier whom  I  had  chanced  to  remember  as  the  servant  of  an 
old  friend,  on  a  crusade  into  the  castle  for  a  lady's  maid  and 
a  pair  of  dry  stockings  !  Whether  they  were  found,  and  the 
fair  archer  wore  them,  or  where  she  and  her  silk-shod  compa- 
ny have  the  tournament  consumption,  rheumatism,  or  cough, 
at  this  hour,  I  am  sorry  I  cannot  say. 

The  judge  of  peace.  Lord  Saltoun,  with  his  wand,  and  re- 
tainers on  foot  bearing  heavy  battle  axes,  was  one  of  the  best 
figures  in  the  procession ;  though,  as  he  w^as  slightly  gray, 
and  his  ruby  velvet  cap  and  saturated  ruff  were  poor  sub- 


204  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


stitutes  for  a  warm  cravat  and  hat-brim,  I  could  not  but  asso- 
ciate his  fine  horsemanship  with  a  sore  throat,  and  his  retain- 
ers and  their  battle  axes  with  relays  of  nurses  and  hot  flannels. 
The  flower  of  the  tournament,  in  the  representing  and  keeping 
lap  of  the  assumed  character,  however,  was  its  king,  Lord 
Londonderry.  He,  too,  is  a  man,  I  should  think,  on  the 
shady  side  of  fifty,  but  of  just  the  high  preservation  and  em- 
bonpoint necessary  for  a  royal  presence.  His  robe  of  red  vel- 
vet and  ermine  swept  the  ground  as  he  sat  in  his  saddle ;  and 
he  managed  to  keep  its  immense  folds  free  of  his  horse's  legs, 
and  yet  to  preserve  its  flow  in  his  prancing  motion,  with  a 
grace  and  ease,  I  must  say,  which  seemed  truly  imperial. — 
His  palfrey  was  like  a  fiery  Arabian,  all  action,  nerve,  and 
fire  ;  and  every  step  was  a  rearing  prance,  which,  but  for  the 
tranquil  self  possession  and  easy  control  of  the  king,  would 
have  given  the  spectators  some  fears  for  his  royal  safety. 
Lord  Londonderry's  whole  performance  of  his  part  was  with- 
out a  fault,  and  chiefly  admirable,  I  thought,  from  his  sus- 
taining it  with  that  unconsciousness  and  entire  freedom  from 
mauvaise  honte  which  the  English  seldom  can  command  in  new 
or  conspicuous  situations. 

The  Queen  of  Beauty  was  called,  and  her  horse  led  to  the 
door  ;  but  the  water  ran  from  the  blue  saddle  cloth  and  hous- 
ings like  rain  from  a  roof,  and  the  storm  seemed  to  have  in- 
creased with  the  sound  of  her  name.  She  came  to  the  door, 
and  gave  a  deprecating  look  upward  which  would  have  molli- 
fied any  thing  but  a  Scotch  sky,  and,  by  command  of  the 
knight  marshal,  retired  again  to  wait  for  a  less  chivalric  but 
drier  conveyance.  Her  example  was  followed  by  the  other 
ladies,  and  their  horses  were  led  riderless  in  the  procession. 


EGLINTON  TOURAMENT.  2O6 


The  knights  were  but  half  called  when  I  accepted  a  friend's 
kind  oflfer  of  a  seat  in  his  carriage  to  the  lists.  The  entire 
park,  as  we  drove  along,  was  one  vast  expanse  of  umbrellas ; 
and  it  looked  from  the  can-iage  window,  like  an  army  of  ani- 
mated and  gigantic  mushrooms,  shouldering  each  other  in  a 
march.  I  had  no  idea  till  then  of  the  immense  crowd  the  oc- 
casion had  called  together.  The  circuitous  route  railed  in  for 
the  procession  was  lined  with  spectators  six  or  seven  deep,  on 
either  side,  throughout  its  whole  extent  of  a  mile  ;  the  most 
distant  recesses  of  the  park  were  crowded  with  men,  horses, 
and  vehicles,  all  pressing  onward  ;  and  as  we  approached  the 
lists,  we  found  the  multitude  full  a  quarter  of  a  mile  deep, 
standing  on  all  the  eminences  which  looked  down  upon  the 
enclosure,  as  closely  serried  almost  as  the  pit  of  the  opera, 
and  all  eyes  bent  in  one  direction,  anxiously  watching  the 
guarded  entrance.  I  heard  the  number  of  persons  present 
variously  estimated  during  the  day,  the  estimates  ranging  from 
fifty  to  seventy-five  thousand,  but  I  should  think  the  latter 
was  nearer  the  mark. 

We  presented  our  tickets  at  the  private  door,  in  the  rear 
of  the  principal  gallery,  and  found  ourselves  introduced  to  a 
very  dry  place  among  the  supports  and  rafters  of  the  privileged 
structure.  The  look-out  was  excellent  in  front,  and  here  I 
proposed  to  remain,  declining  the  wet  honor  of  a  place  above 
stairs.  The  gentleman-usher,  however,  was  very  urgent  for 
our  promotion  ;  but  as  we  found  him  afterward  chatting  very 
familiarly  with  a  party  who  occupied  the  seats  we  had  selected, 
we  were  compelled  to  relinquish  the  flattering  unction  that  he 
was  actuated  by  an  intuitive  sense  of  our  deservings.  On 
ascending  to  the  covered  gallery,  I  saw,  to  my  surprise,  that 


206  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


some  of  tiie  best  seats  in  front  were  left  vacant,  and  here  and 
there,  along  the  different  tiers  of  benches,  ladies  were  crowd- 
ing excessively  close  together,   while  before  or  behind   them 
there  seemed  plenty  of  unoccupied  room.      A  second  look 
showed  me  small  streams  of  water  coming  through  the  roof, 
and  I  found  that  a  dry  seat  was  totally  unattainable.      The 
gallery  held  about  a  thousand  persons  (the  number  Lord  Eg- 
linton  had  invited  to  the  banquet  and  ball,)  and   the  greater 
part  of  these  were  ladies,  most  of  them  in  fancy  dresses,  and 
the  remainder  in  very  slight  demi-toilette — everybody  having 
dressed  apparently  with  a  full  reliance  on   the  morning's  pro- 
mise of  fair  weather.     Less  fortunate  than  the  multitude  out- 
side the  Earl's  guests  seemed  not  to  have  numbered  umbrellas 
among  the  necessities  of  a  tournament ;  and  the  demand  for 
this   despised    invention   was   suflBcient   (if   merit    was   ever 
rewarded)  to  elevate  it  for  ever  after  to  a  rank  among  chivalric 
appointments.     Substitutes  and  imitations  of  it  were  made  of 
swords  and  cashmeres;  and  the  lenders  of  veritable  umbrellas 
received  smiles  which  should  induce  them,  one  would  think, 
to  carry  half  a-dozen  to  all  future  tournaments  in  Scotland. 
It  was  pitiable  to  see  the  wreck  going  on  among  the  perish- 
able elegancies  of  Victorine  and  Herbault — chip  hats  of  the 
most  faultless  tournure  collapsing  with  the  wet ;  starched  ruffs 
quite  flat ;  dresses  passing  helplessly  from  "  Lesbia's"  style  to 
"Nora  Creina's;"  shawls,  tied  by  anxious  mammas  over  chapeau 
and  coiffure,  crushing  pitilessly  the  delicate  fabric  of  months  of 
invention  ;  and,  more  lamentable  still,  the  fair  brows  and  shoul- 
ders of  many  a  lovely  woman  proving  with  rainbow  clearness 
that  the  fiolora  of  the  silk  or  velvet  composing  her  head-dress 
were  by  no  means  'fast.'  The  Irvine  archers,  by  the  way,  who  as 


EGLIXTON  TOURNAMENT.  gQT 


the  Queen's  body  guai'd,  were  compelled  to  expose  themselves 
to  the  j-ain  on  the  grand  staircase,  resembled  a  troop  of  New 
Zealanders  with  their  faces  tattooed  of  a  delicate  green  ;  though, 
as  their  Lincoln  bonnets  were  all  made  of  the  same  faithless 
velvet,  they  v^^ere  fortunately  streaked  so  nearly  alike  as  to 
preserve  their  uniform. 

After  a  brief  consultation  between  the  rheumatisms  in  my 
different  limbs,  it  was  decided  (since  it  was  vain  to  hope 
for  shelter  for  the  entire  person)  that  my  cloth  cap  would  be 
the  best  recipient  for  the  inevitable  wet ;  and  selecting  the 
best  of  the  vacated  places,  I  seated  myself  so  as  to  receive  one 
of  the  small  streams  as  nearly  as  possible  on  my  organ  of 
firmness.  Here  I  was  undisturbed,  except  once  that  I  was 
asked,  (my  seat  supposed  to  be  a  dry  one)  to  give  place  for  a 
lady  newly  arrived,  who,  receiving  my  appropriated  rivulet  in 
her  neck,  immediately  restored  it  to  me  with  many  acknowledg 
ments,  and  passed  on.  In  point  of  position,  my  seat,  which 
waa  very  near  the  pavilion  of  the  Queen  of  Beauty,  was  one 
of  the  best  at  the  tournament ;  and  diverting  my  aqueduct,  by 
a  little  management,  over  my  left  shoulder,  I  contrived  to  bo 
more  comfortable,  probably,  than  most  of  my  shivering  and 
melancholy  neighbors. 

A  great  agitation  in  the  crowd,  and  a  dampish  sound  of 
coming  trumpets  announced  the  approach  of  the  procession.  As 
it  came  in  sight,  and  wound  along  the  curved  passage  to  the 
lists,  its  long  and  serpentine  line  of  helmets  and  glittering 
armor,  gonfalons,  spear-points,  and  plumes,  just  surging 
above  the  moving  sea  of  umbrellas,  had  the  effect  of  some  gor- 
geous and  bright-scaled  dragon  swimming  in  troubled  waters. 
The  leaders  of  the  long  cavalcade  pranced  into  the  arena  at 


208         FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


last,  and  a  tremendous  shout  from  the  multitude  announced 
their  admiration  of  the  spectacle.  On  they  came  toward  the 
canopy  of  the  Queen  of  Beauty,  men  atarms,  trumpeters,  her- 
alds, and  halberdiers,  and  soon  after  them  the  king  of  the 
tournament,  with  his  long  scarlet  robe  flying  to  the  tempest, 
and  his  rearing  palfrey  straining  every  nerve  to  show  his 
pride  and  beauty.  The  first  shout  from  the  principal  gallery 
was  given  in  approbation  of  this  display  of  horsemanship,  as 
Lord  Londonderry  rode  past;  and  considering  the  damp 
enthusiasm  which  prompted  it,  it  should  have  been  considered 
rather  flattering.  Lord  Eglinton  came  on  presently,  distin- 
guished above  all  others  no  less  by  the  magnificence  of  his 
appointments  than  by  the  ease  and  dignity  with  which  ho 
rode,  and  his  knightly  bearing  anci  stature.  His  golden 
armor  sat  on  him  as  if  he  had  been  used  to  wear  it ;  and  he 
managed  his  beautiful  charger,  and  bowed  in  reply  to  the 
reiterated  shouts  of  the  multitude  and  his  friends,  with  a 
grace  and  chivalric  courtesy  which  drew  murmurs  of  applause 
from  the  spectators  long  after  the  cheering  had  subsided. 

The  jester  rode  into  the  lists  upon  a  gray  steed,  shaking  his 
bells  over  his  head,  and  dressed  in  an  odd  costume  of  blue  and 
yellow,  with  a  broad  flapped  hat,  asses'  ears,  &c.  His  charac- 
ter was  not  at  first  understood  by  the  crowd,  but  he  soon 
began  to  excite  merriment  by  his  jokes,  and  no  little  admi- 
ration by  his  capital  riding.  He  was  a  professional  person,  I 
think  it  was  said,  from  Astley's,  but  as  he  spoke  with  a  most 
excellent  Scotch  "  burr,"  he  easily  passed  for  an  indigenous 
"  fool^  He  rode  from  side  to  side  of  the  lists  during  the 
whole  of  the  tournament,  borrowing  umbrellas,  quizzing  the 
knights,  &c. 


EGLINTON  TOUKNAMENT.  oQO 


One  of  the  most  striking  features  of  the  procession  was  the 
turn-out  of  the  knight  of  the  Gael,  Lord  Glenlyon,  with  sev- 
enty of  his  clansmen  at  iiis  back  in  plaid- and  philibeg,  and  a 
finer  exhibition  of  calves  (without  a  joke)  could  scarce  be  de- 
sired. They  followed  their  chieftain  on  foot,  and  when  the 
procession  separated,  took  up  their  places  in  a  line  along  the 
palisade  serving  as  a  guard  to  the  lists. 

After  the  procession  had  twice  made  the  circuit  of  the 
enclosure,  doing  obeisance  to  the  Queen  of  Beauty,  the  jester 
bad  possession  of  the  field  while  the  knights  retired  to  don 
their  helmets,  (hitherto  carried  by  their  esquires,)  and  to 
await  the  challenge  to  combat.  All  eyes  were  now  bent  upon 
the  gorgeous  clusters  of  tents  at  either  extremity  of  the  oblong 
area ;  and  in  a  very  few  minutes  the  herald's  trumpet  sound- 
ed, and  the  Knight  of  the  Swan  rode  forth,  having  sent  his 
defiance  to  the  Knight  of  the  Golden  Lion.  At  another  blast 
of  the  trumpet  they  set  their  lances  in  rest,  selected  opposite 
sides  of  the  long  fence  or  barrier  running  lengthwise  through 
the  lists,  and  rode  furiously  past  each  other,  the  fence  of 
course  preventing  any  contact  except  that  of  their  lances. 
This  part  of  the  tournament  (the  essential  part,  one  would 
think)  was,  from  the  necessity  of  the  case,  the  least  satisfactory 
of  all.  The  knights,  though  they  rode  admirably,  were  so 
oppressed  by  the  weight  of  their  armor,  and  so  embarrassed 
in  their  motions  by  the  ill-adjusted  joints,  that  they  were  like 
men  of  wood,  unable  apparently  even  to  raise  the  lance  from 
the  thigh  on  which  it  rested.  I  presume  no  one  of  them 
either  saw  where  he  should  strike  his  opponent,  or  had  any 
power  of  directing  the  weapon.  As  they  rode  close  to  the 
fence,  however,  and  a  ten-foot  pole  sawed  nearly  off  in  two 


2 1 0  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


or  three  places  was  laid  crosswise  oq  the  legs  of  each,  it  would 
be  odd  if  they  did  not  come  in  contact ;  and  the  least  shock 
of  course  splintered  the  lance — in  other  words,  finished  what 
was  begun  by  the  carpenter's  saw.  The  great  difficulty  was 
to  ride  at  all  under  such  a  tremendous  weight,  and  manage  a 
horse  of  spirit,  totally  unused  both  to  the  weight  and  the  clat- 
ter of  his  own  and  his  rider's  armor.  I  am  sure  that  Lord 
Eglinton's  horse,  for  one,  would  have  bothered  Ivanhoe  him- 
self to  "  bring  to  the  scratch  ;"  and  Lord  Waterford's  was  the 
only  one  that,  for  all  the  fright  he  showed,  might  have  been 
selected  (as  they  all  should  have  been)  for  the  virtue  of  having 
peddled  tin-ware.  These  two  knights,  by  the  way,  ran  the 
best  career.  Lord  Eglinton,  malgre  his  bolter,  coming  ofif  the 
victor. 

The  rain,  meantime,  had  increased  to  a  deluge,  the  Queen 
of  Beauty  sat  shivering  under  an  umbrella,  the  jester's  long 
ears  were  water-logged,  and  lay  flat  on  his  shoulders,  and 
everybody  in  my  neighborhood  had  expressed  a  wish  for  a  dry 
seat  and  a  glass  of  sherry.  The  word  "  banquet"  occurred 
frequently  right  and  left ;  hopes  for  "  mulled  wine  or  some- 
thing hot  before  dinner"  stole  from  the  lips  of  a  mamma  on 
the  seat  behind  ;  and  there  seemed  to  be  but  one  chance  for 
the  salvation  of  health  predominant  in  the  minds  of  all — and 
that  was  drinking  rather  more  freely  than  usual  at  the  ap- 
proaching banquet.  Judge  what  must  have  been  the  aston- 
ishment, vexation,  dread,  and  despair,  of  the  one  thousand 
wet,  shivering,  and  hungry  candidates  for  the  feast,  when 
Lord  Eglinton  rode  up  to  the  gallery  unhelmeted,  and  deliv- 
ered himself  as  follows : — 


EGI.1NT0N  TOURNAMENT. 


211 


"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  had  hoped  to  have  given  you  all 
a  good  dinner  ;  but  to  my  extreme  mortification  and  regret,  I 
am  just  informed  that  the  rain  has  penetrated  the  banqueting 
pavilions,  and  that,  in  consequence,  I  shall  only  be  able  to 
entertain  so  many  of  my  friends  as  can  meet  around  my 
ordinary  table." 

About  as  uncomfortable  a  piece  of  intelligence  to  some  nine 
hundred  and  sixty  of  his  audience,  as  they  could  have  received, 
short  of  a  sentence  for  their  immediate  execution. 

To  comprehend  fully  the  disastrous  extent  of  the  disap- 
pointment in  the  principal  gallery,  it  must  be  taken  into  con- 
sideration that  the  domicils,  fixed  or  temporary,  of  the  reject- 
ed sufferers,  were  from  five  to  twenty  miles  distant — a  long 
ride  at  best,  if  begun  on  the  point  of  famishing,  and  in  very 
thin  and  well-saturated  fancy  dresses.  Grievance  the  first, 
however,  was  nothing  to  grievance  the  second  ;  viz.  that  from 
the  tremendous  run  upon  post-horses,  and  horses  of  all  de- 
scriptions, during  the  three  or  four  previous  days,  the  getting 
to  the  tournament  was  the  utmost  that  many  parties  could 
achieve.  The  nearest  baiting-place  was  several  miles  off";  and 
in  compassion  to  the  poor  beasts,  and  with  the  weather  prom- 
ising fair  on  their  arrival,  most  persons  had  consented  to  take 
their  chance  for  the  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  lists  to  the  cas- 
tle, and  had  dismissed  their  carriages  with  orders  to  return 
at  the  close  of  the  banquet  and  ball — daylight  the  next  morn- 
ing! The  castle,  every  body  knew,  was  crammed,  from 
"  donjon-keep  to  turret-top,"  with  the  relatives  and  friends  of 
the  noble  earl,  and  his  private  table  could  accommodate  no 
more  than  these.      To  get  home  was  the  inevitable  alternative. 

The  rain  poured  in  a  deluge.     The  entire  park  was  trodden 


212  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

into  a  slough,  or  standing  in  pools  of  water — carts,  carriages, 
and  horsemen,  with  fifty  thousand  flying  pedestrians,  crowd- 
ing every  road  and  avenue.  How  to  get  home  with  a  car- 
riage I     How  the  deuce  to  get  home  without  one  ! 

A  gentleman  who  had  been  sent  out  on  the  errand  of  Noah's 
dove  by  a  lady  whose  carriage  and  horses  were  ordered  at 
four  the  following  morning,  came  back  with  the  mud  up  to 
his  knees,  and  reported  that  there  was  not  a  wheelbarrow  to 
be  had  for  love  or  money.  After  threading  the  crowd  in  eve- 
ry direction,  he  had  offered  a  large  sum,  in  vain,  for  a  one- 
horse  cart! 

Night  was  coming  on,  meantime,  very  fast ;  but  absorbed 
by  the  distresses  of  the  shivering  gi'oups  around  Yne,  I  had 
scarce  remembered  that  my  own  invitation  was  but  to  the 
banquet  and  ball — and  my  dinner,  consequently,  nine  miles 
off,  at  Ardrossan.  Thanking  Heaven,  that,  at  least,  I  had  no 
ladies  to  share  my  evening's  pilgrimage,  I  followed  the  Queen 
of  Beauty  down  the  muddy  and  slippery  staircase,  and,  when 
her  majesty  had  stepped  into  her  carriage,  I  stepped  over' an- 
kles in  mud  and  water,  and  began  my  wade  toward  the 
castle. 

Six  iiours  of  rain,  and  the  trampling  of  such  an  immense 
multitude  of  men  and  horses,  had  converted  the  soft  and  moist 
sod  and  soil  of  the  park  into  a  deep  and  most  adhesive  quag- 
mire. Glancing  through  the  labyrinth  of  vehicles  on  every 
side,  and  seeing  men  and  horses  with  their  feet  completely 
sunk  below  the  surface,  I  saw  that  there  was  no  possibility  of 
shying  the  matter,  and  that  wade  was  the  word.  I  thought  at 
first,  that  I  had  a  claim  for  a  little  sympathy  on  the  score  of 
being  rather  slenderly  shod  (the  impalpable  sole  of  a  pattern 


EGLINTON  TOURNAMENT.  ^^^ 


leather  boot  being  all  that  separated  me  from  the  subsoil  of 
the  estate  of  Eglinton  ;)  but  overtaking,  presently,  a  party  of 
four  ladies  who  had  lost  several  shoes  in  the  mire,  and  were 
positively  wading  on  in  silk  stockings,  I  took  patience  to  my- 
self from  my  advantage  in  the  comparison,  and  thanked  fate 
for  the  thinnest  sole  with  leather  to  keep  it  on.  The  ladies  I 
speak  of  were  under  the  charge  of  a  most  despairing-looking 
gentleman,  but  had  neither  cloak  nor  umbrella,  and  had  evi- 
dently made  no  calculations  for  a  w^alk.  We  differed  in  our 
choice  of  the  two  sides  of  a  slough,  presently,  and  they  were 
lost  in  the  crowd  ;  but  I  could  not  help  smiling,  with  all  my 
pity  of  their  woes,  to  think  what  a  turning  up  of  prunella 
shoes  there  will  be,  should  Lord  Eglinton  ever  plough  the 
chivalric  field  of  the  Tournament. 

As  I  reached  the  castle,  I  got  upon  the  Macadamised  road, 
which  had  the  advantage  of  a  bottom  somewhere^  though  it 
was  covered  with  a  liquid  mud,  of  which  every  passing  foot 
gave  you  a  spatter  to  the  hips.  My  exterior  was  by  this  time 
equally  divided  between  water  and  dirt,  and  I  trudged  on  in 
comfortable  fellowship  with  farmers,  coal-miners,  and  Scotch 
lasses — envying  very  much  the  last,  for  they  carried  their 
shoes  in  their  hands,  and  held  their  petticoats,  to  say  the 
least,  clear  of  the  mud.  Many  a  good  joke  they  seemed  to 
have  among  them,  but  as  they  spoke  in  Gaelic,  it  was  lost  on 
my  Sassenach  ears. 

I  had  looked  forward  with  a  faint  hope  to  a  gingerbread 
and  ale-cart,  which  I  remembered  having  seen  in  the  morning 
established  near  the  terminus  of  the  railroad,  trusting  to  re- 
fresh my  strength  and  patience  with  a  glass  of  anything  that 
goes  under  the  generic  name  of  "  sumraat ;"  but  though  the 


214  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


cart  was  there,  the  gingerbread  shelf  was  occupied  by  a  row 
of  Scotch  lasses,  crouching  together  under  cover  from  the 
rain,  and  the  pedlar  assured  me  that  "  there  wasna  a  drap  o' 
speerit  to  be  got  within  ten  mile  o'  the  castle.  One  glance  at 
the  railroad,  where  a  car  with  a  single  horse  was  beset  by 
some  thousands  of  shoving  and  fighting  applicants,  convinced 
me  that  I  had  a  walk  of  eight  miles  to  finish  my  "  purgation 
by"  tournament;  and  as  it  was  getting  too  dark  to  trust  to 
any  picking  of  the  way,  I  took  the  middle  of  the  rail-track,  and 
set  forward. 

"  Oh,  but  a  weary  wight  was  he 

When  he  reached  the  foot  of  the  dogwood  tree." 

Eight  miles  in  a  heavy  rain,  with  boots  of  the  consistence 
of  brown  paper,  and  a  road  of  alternate  deep  mud  and  broken 
stone,  should  entitle  one  to  the  greeu  turban.  I  will  make 
the  pilgrimage  of  a  Hadjii  from  the  "  farthest  inn  "  with  half 
the  endurance. 

I  found  my  Liverpool  friends  over  a  mutton  chop  in  the 
snug  parlor  of  our  host,  and  with  a  strong  brew  of  hot  toddy, 
and  many  a  laugh  at  the  day's  adventures  by  land  and  water, 
we  got  comfortably  to  bed  "  somewhere  in  the  small  hours." 
And  so  ended  (for  me)  the  great  day  of  the  tournament. 

After  witnessing  the  disasters  of  the  first  day,  the  demoli- 
tion of  costumes,  and  the  perils  by  water,  of  masqueraders 
and  spectators,  it  was  natural  to  fancy  that  the  tournament 
was  over.  So  did  not  seem  to  think  several  thousands  of 
newly-arrived  persons,  pouring  from  steamer  after  steamer 
upon  the  pier  of  Ardrossan,  and  in  every  variety  of  costume, 
from  the  shepherd's  maud  to  the  courtier's  satin,  crowding  to 
the  rail  cars  from  Eglintou.      It  appeared  from  the  chance 


EGLINTON  TOURNAMENT.  215 

remarks  of  one  or  two  who  came  to  our  lodgings  to  deposito 
their  carpet  bags,  that  it  had  rained  very  little  in  the  places 
from  which  the  steamers  had  come,  and  that  they  had  calcu- 
lated on  the  second  as  the  great  day  of  the  joust.  No  dissua- 
sion had  the  least  effect  upon  them,  and  away  they  went,  be- 
decked and  merry,  the  suflferers  of  the  day  before  looking  out 
upon  them,  from  comfortable  hotel  and  lodging,  with  pro- 
phetic pity. 

At  noon  the  sky  brightened ;  and  as  the  cars  were  running 
by  this  time  with  diminished  loads,  I  parted  from  my  agree- 
able friends,  and  bade  adieu  to  my  garret  at  Ardrossan.  I 
was  bound  to  Ireland,  and  my  road  lay  by  Eglinton  to  Irvine 
and  Ayr.  Fellow-passengers  with  me  were  twenty  or  thirty 
men  in  Glengary  bonnets,  plaids,  &c. ;  and  I  came  in  for  my 
share  of  the  jeers  and  jokes  showered  on  them  by  the  passengers 
in  the  return-cars,  as  men  bound  on  a  fruitless  errand.  As  w^e 
neared  the  castle,  the  crowds  of  people  with  disconsolate  faces 
waiting  for  conveyances,  or  standing  by  the  reopened  ginger- 
bread carts  in  listless  idleness,  convinced  my  companions,  at 
last,  that  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen,  for  that  day  at  least, 
at  Eglinton.  I  left  them  sitting  on  the  cars,  undecided 
whether  to  go  on  or  return  without  losing  their  places ;  and 
seeing  a  coach  marked  "  Irvine"  standing  in  the  road,  I  jumped 
m  without  question  or  ceremony.  It  belonged  to  a  private 
party  of  gentlemen,  who  were  to  visit  the  castle  and  tilting- 
ground  on  their  way  to  Irvine  ;  and  as  they  very  kindly  insis- 
ted on  my  remaining  after  I  had  apologised  for  the  intrusion, 
I  found  myself  "  booked"  for  a  glimpse  of  the  second  day's 
attractions. 

The  avenue  to  the  castle  was  as  crowded  as  on  the  day 


216  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


before ;  but  it  was  curious  to  remark  how  the  general  aspect 
of  the  multitude  was  changed  by  the  substitution  of  disappoint- 
ment for  expectation.  The  lagging  gait  and  surly  silence, 
instead  of  the  elastic  step  and  merry  joke,  seemed  to  have 
darkened  the  scen_e  more  than  the  withdrawal  of  the  sun,  and 
I  w^ag  glad  to  -wrap  myself  in  my  cloak,  and  remember  that 
I  was  on  the  wing.  The  banner  flying  at  the  castle  tower  was 
the  only  sign  of  motion  I  could  see  in  its  immediate  vicinity ; 
the  sail-cloth  coverings  of  the  pavilion  were  dark  with  wet ;  the 
fine  sward  was  everywhere  disfigured  with  traces  of  mud,  and 
the  whole  sgene  was  dismal  and  uncomfortable.  We  kept  on 
to  the  lists,  and  found  them,  as  one  of  my  companions  ex- 
pressed it,  more  like  a  cattle-pen  after  a  fair  than  a  scene  of 
pleasure — trodden,  wet,  miry,  and  deserted.  The  crowd, 
content  to  view  them  from  a  distance,  were  assembled  around 
the  large  booths  on  the  ascent  of  the  rising  ground  toward  the 
castle,  where  a  band  was  playing  some  merry  reels,  and  the 
gingerbread  and  ale  venders  plied  a  busy  vocation.  A  look 
was  enough ;  and  we  shaped  our  course  for  Irvine,  sympa- 
thizing deeply  with  the  disappointment  of  the  high-spirited 
and  generous  Lord  of  the  Tourney.  I  heard  at  Irvine,  and 
farther  on,  that  the  tilting  would  be  renewed,  and  the  ban- 
quet and  ball  given  on  the  succeeding  days ;  but  after  the 
wreck  of  dresses  and  peril  of  health  I  had  witnessed,  I  was 
persuaded  that  the  best  that  could  be  done  would  be  but  a 
slender  patching  up  of  the  original  glories  as  well  as  a  halting 
rally  of  the  original  spirits  of  the  tournament.  So  I  kept 
on  my  way. 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL 


LONDOK 


There  is  an  inborn  and  inbred  distrust  of  "  foreigners"  in 
England — continental  foreigners,  I  should  say — which  keeps 
the  current  of  French  and  Italian  society  as  distinct  amid  the 
sea  of  London,  as  the  blue  Rhone  in  Lake  Leman.  The 
word  "  foreigner,"  in  England,  conveys  exclusively  the  idea 
of  a  dark-complexioned  and  whiskered  individual,  in  a  frogged 
coat  and  distressed  circumstances  ;  and  to  introduce  a  smooth- 
cheeked,  plainly-dressed,  quiet-\ookmg  person  by  that  name, 
would  strike  any  circle  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  as  a  palpable 
misnomer.  The  violent  and  unhappy  contrast  between  the 
Parisian's  mode  of  life  in  London  and  in  Paris,  makes  it 
very  certain  that  few  of  those  bien  nes  et  conv enablement  riches 
10 


218  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

will  live  in  London  for  pleasure ;  and  then  the  flood  of  politi- 
cal emigres,  for  the  last  half-century,  has  monopolised  hair- 
dressing,  &c.,  &c.,  to  ouch  a  degree,  that  the  word  French- 
man is  synonymous  in  English  ears  with  barber  and  dancing- 
master.  If  a  dark  gentleman,  wearing  either  whisker  or 
mustache,  chance  to  offend  John  Bull  in  the  street,  the  first 
opprobrious  language  he  hears — the  strongest  that  occurs  to 
the  fellow's  mind — is  "  Get  out,  you Frenchman  !" 

All  this,  9nalgre  the  rage  for  foreign  lions  in  London  society. 
A  well -introduced  foreigner  gets  easily  into  this,  and  while  he 
keeps  his  cabriolet  and  confines  himself  to  frequenting  soirees 
and  accepting  invitations  to  dine,  he  will  never  suspect  that  he 
is  not  on  an  equal  footing  with  any  "  milor^^  in  London.  If  he 
wishes  to  be  disenchanted,  he  has  only  to  change  his  lodg- 
ings from  Long's  to  Great  Russell  street,  or  (bitterer  and 
readier  trial)  to  propose  marriage  to  the  honorable  Augusta 
or  Lady  Fanny. 

Everybody  who  knows  the  society  of  Paris  knows  something 
of  a  handsome  and  very  elegant  young  baron  of  the  Faubourg 
St.  Germain,  who,  with  small  fortune,  very  great  taste,  and 
greater  credit,  contrived  to  go  on  very  swimmingly  as 
an  adorable  roue  and  vaurien  till  he  was  hard  upon  twenty- 
five.  At  the  first  crisis  in  his  aflairs,  the  ladies,  who  hold  all 
the  politics  in  their  laps,  got  him  appointed  consul  to  Algiers, 
or  minister  to  Venezuela,  and  with  this  pretty  pretext  for 
selling  his  horses  and  dressing  gowns,  these  cherished  articles 
brought  twice  their  original  value  and  saved  his  loyauie,  and 
Bet  him  up  in  fans  and  monkeys  at  his  place  of  exile.  A  year 
of  this  was  enough  for  the  darling  of  Paris,  and  not  more  than 
a  day  before  his  desolate  loves  wmjld  have  ceased  to  mourn  for 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  219 

him,  he  galloped  into  his  hotel  with  a  new  fashion  of  whiskers,  a 
black  female  slave,  and  the  most  delicious  histories  of  his  ad- 
ventures during  the  ages  he  had  been  exiled.  Down  to  the 
earth  and  their  previous  obscurity  dropped  the  rivals  who 
were  just  beginning  to  usurp  his  glories.  A  new  stud,  an  in- 
describable vehicle,  a  suite  of  rooms  a  V  Africaine^  and  a  mys- 
tery, preserved  at  some  expense,  about  his  negress,  kept  all 
Paris,  including  his  new  creditors,  in  admiring  astonishment 
for  a  year.  Among  the  crowd  of  his  worshippers,  not  the  last 
or  least  fervent,  were  the  fair-haired  and  glowing  beauties 
who  assemble  at  the  levees  of  their  ambassador  in  the  Rue  St. 
Honore,  and  upon  whom  le  beau  Adolphe  had  looked  as  pretty 
savages,  whose  frightful  toilets  and  horrid  French  accent 
might  be  tolerated  one  evening  in  the  week — vu  le  souper  ! 

Eclipses  will  arrive  as  calculated  by  insignificant  astrono- 
mers, however,  and  debts  will  become  due  as  presumed  by 
vulgar  tradesmen.  Le  beau  Adolphe  began  to  see  another 
crisis,  and  betook  himself  to  his  old  advisers,  who  were  desoles 
to  the  last  degree ;  but  there  was  a  new  government,  and  the 
blood  of  the  Faubourg  was  at  a  discount.  No  embassies 
were  to  be  had  for  nothing-  "With  a  deep  sigh,  and  a  gentle 
tone,  to  spare  his'  feelings  as  much  as  possible,  his  friend  ven- 
tures to  suggest  to  him  that  it  will  be  necessary  to  sacrifice 
himself 

"  Ahi  I  inais  comtnent  .^" 

"  Marry  one  of  these  betes  Anglaises,  who  drink  you  up 
with  their  great  blue  eyes,  and  are  made  of  gold  !" 

Adolph  buried  his  face  in  his  gold-fringed  oriental  pocket 
handkerchief;  but  when  the  first  agony  was  passed,  his  reso- 
lution was  taken,  and  he  determined  to  go  to  England.     The 


220  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AM)  PLACES. 


first  beautiful  creature  lie  should  see,  whose  funds  were  enor- 
mous and  well-invested,  should  bear  away  from  all  the  love, 
rank,  and  poverty  of  France,  the  perfumed  hand  he  looked 
upon. 

A  flourishing  letter,  written  in  a  small,  cramped  hand,  but 
with  a  seal  on  whose  breadth  of  wax  and  blazon  all  the  united 
heraldry  of  France  was  interwoven,  arrived,  through  the  am- 
bassador's despatch  box,  to  the  address  of  Miladi  , 

Belgrave  square,  announcing,  in  full,  that  le  beau  Adolphe  was 
coming  to  London  to  marry  the  richest  heiress  in  good  society 
— and  as  Paris  could  not  spare  him  more  than  a  week,  he 
wished  those  who  had  daughters  to  marry,  answering  the  de- 
scription, to  be  bien  prevenus  of  his  visit  and  errand.  With 
the  letter  came  a  compend  of  his  genealogy,  from  the  man 
who  spoke  French  in  the  confusion  of  Babel  to  le  dit  Baron 
Adolphe. 

To  London  came  the  valet  of  le  beau  baron,  two  days  be- 
fore his  master,  bringing  his  slippers  and  dressing  gown  to  be 
aired  after  their  sea  voyage  across  the  channel.  To  London 
followed  the  irresistible  youth,  cursing,  in  the  politest  French, 
the  necessity  which  subtracted  a  week  from  a  life  measured 
with  such  "  diamond  sparks  "  as  his  own  in  Paris.  He  sat 
himself  down  in  his  hotel,  sent  his  man  Porphyre  with  his  card 
to  every  noble  and  rich  house,  whose  barbarian  tenants  he  had 
ever  seen  in  the  Champs  Elysees,  and  waited  the  result.  In- 
vitations from  fair  ladies,  who  remembered  him  as  the  man 
the  French  belles  wer»  mad  about,  and  from  literary  ladies, 
who  wanted  his  whiskers  and  black  eyes  to  give  their  soirees 
tha  necessary  foreign  complexion,  flowed  in  on  all  sides,  and 
Monsieur  Adolphe  selected  his  most  wignon  cane  and  his  hap- 


TALKS   OVER  TRAVEL.  ggj 


piest  design  in  a  stocking,  and  "  reTidered  himself''  through 
the  rain  like  a  martyr. 

No  offers  of  marriage  the  first  evening  ! 

None  the  second  I ! 

None  the  third  !  I  ! 

Le  beau  Adolphe  began  to  think  either  that  English  papas 
did  not  propose  their  daughters  to  people  as  in  France ;  or, 
perhaps,  that  the  lady  whom  he  had  commissioned  to  circu- 
late his  wishes  had  not  sufficiently  advertised  him.  She  had, 
however. 

He  took  advice,  and  found  it  would  be  necessary  to  take 
the  first  step  himself  This  was  disagreeable,  and  he  said  to 
himself,  ''  Lejeu  ne  vautpas  la  chandelle  /"  but  his  youth  was 
passing,  and  his  English  fortune  was  at  interest. 

He  went  to  Almack's,  and  proposed  to  the  first  authentica- 
ted fortune  that  accepted  his  hand  for  a  waltz.  The  young 
lady  first  laughed,  and  then  told  her  mother,  who  told  her 
son,  who  thought  it  an  insult,  and  called  out  le  beau  Adolphe, 
very  much  to  the  astonishment  of  himself  and  Porphyre.  The 
thing  was  explained,  and  the  baron  looked  about  the  next  day 
for  one  pas  si  bete.  Found  a  young  lady  with  half  a  miUion 
sterling,  proposed  in  a  morning  call,  and  was  obliged  to  ring 
for  assistance,  his  intended  having  gone  into  convulsions  with 
laughing  at  him.  The  story  by  this  time  had  got  pretty  well 
distributed  through  the  different  strata  of  London  society  ;— 
and  when  le  beau  Adolphe,  convinced  that  he  would  not  suc- 
ceed with  the  noble  heiresses  of  Belgrave  square,  condescend- 
ed, in  his  extremity,  to  send  his  heart  by  his  valet  to  a  rich 
little  vulgarian,  who  "  never  had  a  grandfather,"  and  lived  in 
Harley  street,  he  narrowly  escaped  being  prosecuted  for  a 


222  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


nuisance,  and,  Paris  being  now  in  possession  of  the  enemy,  he 
buried  his  sorrows  in  Belgium.  After  a  short  exile  his  friends 
procured  him  a  vice -consulate  in  some  port  in  the  North  Sea, 
and  there  probably  at  this  moment  he  sorrowfully  vegetates. 

This  is  not  a  story  founded  upon  fact,  but  literally  true. — 
Many  of  the  circumstances  came  under  my  own  observation  ; 
and  the  whole  thus  affords  a  laughable  example  of  the  esteem 
in  which  what  an  English  fox-hunter  would  call  a  "  trashy 
Frenchman"  is  held  in  England,  as  well  as  of  the  travestie 
produced  by  transplanting  the  usages  of  one  country  to 
another. 

Kidiculous  as  any  intimate  mixture  of  English  and  French 
ideas  and  persons  seems  to  be  in  London,  the  foreign  society 
of  itself  in  that  capital  is  exceedingly  spiritual  and  agreeable. 
The  various  European  embassies  and  their  attaches^  with  their 
distinguished  travellers,  from  their  several  countries,  acciden- 
tally belonging  to  each ;  the  F  rench  and  Italians,  married  to 
English  noblemen  and  gentry,  and  living  in  London,  and  the 
English  themselves,  who  have  become  cosmopolite  by  resi- 
dence in  other  countries,  form  a  very  large  society  in  which 
mix,  071  perfectly  equal  terms^  the  first  singers  of  the  opera, 
and  foreign  musicians  and  artists  generally.  This  last  cir- 
cumstance gives  a  peculiar  charm  to  these  reunions^  though  it 
imparts  a  pride  and  haughty  bearing  to  \kiQi  prima  donna  and 
her  fraternity,  which  is,  at  least,  sometimes  very  inconvenient 
to  themselves.  The  remark  recalls  to  my  mind  a  scene  I  once 
witnessed  in  London,  which  will  illustrate  the  feeling  better 
than  an  essay  upon  it. 

I  was  at  one  of  those  private  concerts  given  at  an  enormous 
expense  during  the  opera  season,  at  which  "  assisted"  Julia 


TALKS    OVER  TRAVEL.  223 


Grisi,  Eubini,  Lablache,  Tamburini,  and  Ivanhoff,  Grisi 
came  in  the  carriage  of  a  foreign  lady  of  rank.  ivJlo  had  dined 
with  her^  and  she  walked  into  the  room  looking  like  an  ena- 
press.  She  was  dressed  in  the  plainest  white,  with  her  glossy- 
haircut  smooth  from  her  brow,  and  a  single  white  japonica 
dropped  over  one  of  her  temples.  The  lady  who  brought  her 
chaperoned  her  during  the  evening,  as  if  she  had  been  her 
daughter,  and  under  the  excitement  of  her  own  table  and  the 
kindness  of  her  friends,  she  sung  with  a  rapture  and  a  freshet 
of  glory  (if  one  may  borrow  a  word  from  the  Mississippi) 
which  set  all  hearts  on  fire.  She  surpassed  her  most  ap- 
plauded hour  on  the  stage — for  it  was  worth  her  while.  The 
audience  was  composed,  almost  exclusively,  of  those  who  are 
not  only  cultivated  judges,  but  who  sometimes  repay  delight 
with  a  present  of  diamonds. 

Lablache  shook  the  house  to  its  foundations  in  his  turn; 
Kubini  ran  through  his  miraculous  compass  with  the  ease, 
truth,  and  melody,  for  which  his  singing  is  unsurpassed  ;  Tam- 
burini poured  his  rich  and  even  fullness  on  the  ear,  and  Kus- 
sian  Ivanhoff,  the  one  southern  singing-bird  who  has  come 
out  of  the  north,  wire-drew  his  fine  and  spiritual  notes,  till 
they  who  had  been  flushed,  and  tearful,  and  silent,  when  the 
others  had  sang,  drowned  his  voice  in  the  poorer  applause  of 
exclamation  and  surprise. 

The  concert  was  over  by  twelve,  the  gold  and  silver  paper 
bills  of  the  performance  were  turned  into  fans,  and  every  one 
was  waiting  till  supper  should  be  announced — i\\e2Jriina  domia 
still  sitting  by  her  friend,  but  surrounded  by  foreign  attaches, 
and  in  the  highest  elation  at  her  own  success.  The  doors  of 
an  inner  suite  of  rooms  were  thrown  open  at  lust,  and   Grisi's 


224  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


cordon  of  admirers  prepared  to  follow  her  in  and  wait  on  her 
at  supper.  At  this  moment,  one  of  the  powdered  menials 
of  the  house  stepped  up  and  informed  her  very  respectfully 
tliat  suppei-  was  prepared  in  a  separate  room  for  the  singers! 

Medea,  in  her  most  tragic  hour,  never  stood  so  absolntely 
the  picture  of  hate  as  did  Grisi  for  a  single  instant,  in  the  cen- 
tre of  that  aristocratic  crowd.  Her  chest  swelled  and  rose, 
her  lips  closed  over  her  snowy  teeth,  and  compressed  till  the 
pressed  till  the  blood  left  them,  and,  for  myself,  Hooked  uncon- 
sciously to  see  where  she  would  strike.  I  knew,  then,  that 
there  was  more  than  fancy — there  was  nature  and  capability 
of  the  real — in  the  hnaginary  passions  site  plays  so  powerfully. 
A  laugh  of  extreme  amusement  at  the  scene  from  the  high- 
born woman  who  had  accompanied  her,  suddenly  turned  her  hu- 
mor, and  she  stopped  in  the  midst  of  a  muttering  of  Italian,  in 
which  I  could  distinguish  only  the  terminations,  and,  with  a 
sort  of  theatrical  quickness  of  transition,  joined  heartily  in  her 
mirth.  It  was  immediately  proposed  by  this  lady,  however, 
that  herself  and  their  particular  circle  should  join  the  insulted 
prima  donna  at  the  lower  table,  and  they  succeeded  by  this 
manoeuvre  in  retaining  Rubini  and  the  others,  who  were 
leaving  the^ouse  in  a  most  unequivocal  Italian  fury. 

I  had  been  fortunate  enough  to  be  included  in  the  invitation, 
and  with  one  or  two  foreign  diplomatic  men,  I  followed  Grisi 
and  her  amused  friend  to  a  small  room  on  a  lower  floor,  that 
seemed  to  be  the  housekeeper's  parlor.  Here  supper  was  set 
for  six  (including  the  man  who  had  played  the  piano,)  and  on 
the  side-table  stood  every  variety  of  wine  and  fruit,  and  there 
.was  nothing  in  the  supper,  at  least,  to  make  us  regret  the  table 
we  had  left.     With  a  most  imperative  gesture  and  rather  an 


TALKS  OYER  TRAVEL.  gSS 


amusing  attempt  at  English,  Grisi  ordered  the  servants  out  of 
the  room,  and  locked  the  door,  and  from  that  moment  the  con- 
versation commenced  and  continued  in  their  own  musical,  pas- 
sionate, and  energetic  Italian.  My  long  residence  in  that 
country  had  made  me  at  home  in  it ;  every  one  present  spoke 
it  fluently ;  and  I  had  an  opportunity  I  might  never  have  again, 
of  seeing  with  what  abandonment  these  children  of  the  sun 
throw  aside  rank  and  distinction  (yet  without  forgetting  it,) 
and  join  with  those  who  are  their  superiors  in  every  circum- 
stance of  life  in  the  gayeties  of  a  chance  hour. 

Out  of  their  own  country  these  singers  would  probably  ac- 
knowledge no  higher  rank  than  that  of  the  kind  and  gifted  lady 
who  was  their  guest;  yet,  with  the  briefest  apology  at  finding 
th*e  room  too  cold  after  the  heat  of  the  concert,  they  put  on 
their  cloaks  and  hats  as  a  safeguard  to  their  lungs  (more  valu- 
able to  them  than  to  others;)  and  as  most  of  the  cloaks  were 
the  worse  for  travel,  and  the  hats  were  opera-hats  with  two  cor- 
ners,  the  grotesque  contrast  with  the  diamonds  of  one  lady,  and 
the  radiant  beauty  of  the  other,  may  easily  be  imagined. 

Singing  should  be  hungry  work,  by  the  knife  and  fork 
they  played ;  and  between  the  excavations  of  truffle  pies,  and 
the  bumpers  of  champagne  and  burgundy,  the  words  were  few. 
Lablache  appeared  to  be  an  established  droll,  and  every  syllable 
he  found  time  to  utter  was  received  w^ith  the  most  unbounded 
laughter.  Eubini  could  not  recover  from  the  slight  he  con- 
ceived put  upon  him  and  his  profession  by  the  separate  table ; 
and  he  continually  reminded  Grisi,  who  by  this  time  had  quite 
recovered  her  good  humor,  that,  the  night  before,  supping  at 
Devonshire  house,  the  Duke  of  Wellington  had  held  her  gloves 
10* 


226  '^    FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


on  one  side,  while  His  Grace,  their  host  attended  to  her  on 
the  other. 

"  E  vero  /"  said  Ivanhoff,  with  a  look  of  modest  admiratioii 
at  the  prima  donna. 

"  E  vero,  e  bravo  /"  cried  Tamburini,  with  his  sepulchral- 
talking  tone,  much  deeper  than  his  singing. 

"  Si,  si,  si,  bravo  .^"  echoed  all  the  company ;  and  the  haughty 
and  happy  actress  nodded  all  round  with  a  radiant  smile,  and 
repeated,  in  her  silver  tones,  "  Grazie  !  cari  amici !  grazie  /" 

As  the  servants  had  been  turned  out,  the  removal  of  the 
first  course  was  managed  in  pic  nic  fashion ;  and  when  the 
fruit  and  fresh  bottles  of  wine  were  set  upon  the  table  by  the 
attaches,  and  younger  gentlemen,  the  health  of  the  Princess 
who  honored  them  by  her  presence  was  proposed  in  that  lan- 
guage, which,  it  seems  to  me,  is  more  capable  than  all  others 
of  expressing  affectionate  and  respectful  devotion.  All  uncov- 
ered and  stood  up,  and  Grisi,  with  tears  in  her  eyes,  kissed  the 
hand  of  her  benefactress  and  friend,  and  drank  her  health  in 
silence. 

It  is  a  polite  and  common  accomplishment  in  Italy  to  impro- 
vise in  verse,  and  the  lady  I  speak  of  is  well  known  among  her 
immediate  friends  for  a  singular  facility  in  this  beautiful  art. 
She  reflected  a  moment  or  two  with  the  moisture  in  her  eyes, 
and  then  commenced,  low  and  soft,  a  poem,  of  which  it  would 
be  difl5cult,  nay  impossible,  to  convey,  in  English,  an  idea  of 
its  music  and  beauty.  It  took  us  back  to  Italy,  to  its  heavenly 
climate,  its  glorious  arts,  its  beauty  and  its  ruins,  and  conclu- 
ded with  a  line  of  which  I  remember  the  sentiment  to  have 
been,  "  out  of  Italy  every  land  is  exile  /" 


TALKS  OVEK  TRAVEL.  ^27 


The  glasses  were  raised  as  she  ceased,  and  every  one  repeated 
after  her,  "  Fuori  cV Italia  tutto  e  esilio  /" 

"  Ma  /"  cried  out  the  fat  Lablache,  holding  up  bis  glass 
of  champagne,  and  looking  through  it  with  one  eye,  "  siamo 
ben  esiliati  qua  /"  and  with  a  word  of  drollery,  the  party  recov- 
ered its  gayer  tone,  and  the  humor  and  wit  flowed  on  bril- 
liantly as  before. 

The  house  had  long  been  still,  and  the  last  carriage  belong- 
ing to  the  company  above  stairs  had  rolled  from  the  door,  when 
Grisi  suddenly  remembered  a  bird  that  she  had  lately  bought, 
of  which  she  proceeded  to  give  us  a  description  that  probably 
penetrated  to  every  corner  of  the  silent  mansion.  It  was  a 
mocking  bird,  that  had  been  kept  two  years  in  the  opera 
house,  and  between  rehearsal  and  performance  had  learned 
parts  of  everything  it  had  overheard.  It  was  the  property  of 
the  woman  who  took  care  of  the  wardrobes.  Grisi  had 
accidentally  seen  it,  and  immediately  purchased  it  !br  two 
guineas.  How  much  of  embellishment  there  was  in  her  imit- 
ations of  her  treasure  I  do  not  know ;  but  certainly  the  whole 
power  of  her  wondrous  voice,  passion,  and  knowledge  of  music, 
seemed  drunk  up  at  once  in  the  wild,  various,  diffiicult,  and 
rapid  mixture  of  the  capricious  melody  she  undertook.  First 
came,  without  the  passage  which  it  usually  terminates,  the  long 
throat-down,  gurgling,  water-toned  trill,  in  which  Rubini 
(but  for  the  bird  and  its  mistress,  it  seemed  to  me,)  would  have 
been  inimitable  :  then,  right  upon  it,  as  if  it  were  the  begin- 
ning of  a  bar,  and  in  the  most  unbreathing  continuity,  fol- 
lowed a  brilliant  passage  from  the  Barber  of  Seville  run  into 
the  passionate  prayer  of  Anna  Bolena  in  her  madness,  and  fol- 
lowed by  the  air  of  "  Suoni  la  tromba  intrepida^^''  the  tremen- 


228  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


dous  duet  in  the  Puritani,  between  Tamburini  and  Lablache 
Tip  to  the  sky  and  down  to  the  earth  again — away  with  a 
note  of  the  wildest  gladness,  and  back  upon  a  note  of  the  most 
touching  melancholy — if  the  bird  but  half  equals  the  imita- 
tion of  his  mistress,  he  were  worth  the  jewel  in  a  sultan's 
turban. 

"  Giulia !"  Giulietta !"  "  Giuliettina  !"  cried  out  one  and 
another  as  she  ceased,  expressing  in  their  Italian  diminutives, 
the  love  and  delight  she  had  inspired  by  her  incomparable  ex- 
ecution. 

The  stillness  of  the  house  in  the  occasional  pauses  of  conver- 
sation reminded  the  gay  party,  at  last,  that  it  was  wearing 
late.  The  door  was  unlocked,  and  the  half-dozen  sleepy  foot- 
men hanging  about  the  hall  were  dispatched  for  the  cloaks  and 
carriages ;  the  drowsy  porter  was  roused  from  his  deep  leathern 
dor?neuse^  and  opened  the  door — and  broad  upon  the  streetlay  the 
cold  gray  light  of  a  summer's  morning.  I  declined  an  offer 
to  be  set  down  by  a  friend's  cab,  and  strolled  off  to  Hyde  Park 
to  surprise  myself  with  a  sunrise  ;  balancing  the  silent  rebuke 
in  the  fresh  and  healthy  countenances  of  early  laborers  going 
to  their  toil,  against  the  effervescence  of  a  champagne  hour 
which,  since  such  come  so  rarely,  may  come,  for  me,  with  what 
untimeliness  they  please. 


THE   STREETS   OF   LONDON. 


It  has  been  said  that  "  few  men  know  how  to  take  a  walk." 
In  London  it  requires  some  experience  to  know  where  to  take 
a  walk.  The  taste  of  the  perambulator,  the  hour  of  the  day, 
and  the  season  of  the  year,  would  each  affect  materially  the 
decision  '6f  the  question. 

If  you  are  up  early — I  mean  early  for  London — say  ten 
o'clock — we  would  start  from  your  hotel  in  Bond  street,  and 
hastening  through  Regent  street  and  the  Quadrant  (deserts  at 
that  hour)  strike  into  the  zigzag  alleys,  cutting  traversely  from 
Coventry  street  to  Covent  Grarden.  The  horses  on  the  cab 
stand  in  the  Haymarket  "  are  at  this  hour  asleep."  The  late 
supper-eaters  at  Dubourg's  and  the  Cafe  de  P Europe  were 
the  last  infliction  upon  their  galled  wisthers,  and  while  dissip- 
ation slumbers  they  may  find  an  hour  to  hang  their  heads  up- 
on the  bit,  and  forget  gall  and  spavin  in  the  sunshiny  drowse 


230  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  FLACES. 

of  morning.  The  cabman,  too,  nods  on  his  perch  outside, 
careless  of  the  custom  of  "  them  as  pays  only  their  fare,"  and 
quite  sure  not  to  get  "  a  gemman  to  drive"  at  that  unseason- 
able hour.  The  "  waterman"  (called  a  "  water-man,^^  as  he 
will  tell  you,  "  because  he  gives  hay  to  the  'orses")  leans 
against  the  gas-lamp  at  the  corner,  looking  with  a  vacant  in- 
difference of  habit  at  the  splendid  coach  with  its  four  blood- 
bays  just  starting  from  the  Brighton  coach-office  in  the 
Crescent.  The  side-walk  of  Coventry  street,  usually  radiant 
with  the  flaunting  dresses  of  the  frail  and  vicious,  is  now  sober 
with  the  dull  habiliments  of  the  early- stirring  and  the  poor. 
The  town,  (for  this  is  town^  not  city)  beats  its  more  honest 
pulse.     Industry  alone  is  abroad. 

Rupert  street  on  the  left  is  the  haunt  of  shabby-genteel 
poverty.  To  its  low-doored  chop-houses  steal  the  more  needy 
loungers  of  Regent  street,  and  in  confined  and  greasy,  but 
separate  and  exclusive  boxes,  they  eat  their  mutton-chop  and 
potato  unseen  of  their  gayer  acquaintances.  Here  comes  the 
half-pay  officer,  whose  half-pay  is  halved  or  quartered  with 
wife  and  children,  to  drink  his  solitary  half-pint  of  sherry,  and, 
over  a  niggardly  portion  of  soup  and  vegetables,  recall,  as  he 
may  in  imagination,  the  gay  dinners  at  mess,  and  the  compan 
ions  now  grown  cold — in  death  or  worldliness !  Hero  cornea 
the  sharper  out  of  luck,  the  debtor  newly  out  of  prison.  And 
here  comes  many  a  "  gay  fellow  about  town,"  who  will  dine 
to-morrow,  or  may  have  dined  yesterday,  at  a  table  of  unspar 
ing  luxury,  but  who  now  turns  up  Rupert  street  at  seven, 
cursing  the  mischance  that  draws  upon  his  own  slender  pocket 
for  the  dinner  of  today.  Here  are  found  the  watchful  host 
and  the  suspicious  waiter — the  closely -measured  wine,  and  the 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  ggj 


more  closely-measured  attention — the  silent  and  shrinking 
company,  the  close-drawn  curtain,  the  suppressed  call  for  the 
bill,  the  lingering  at  the  table  of  those  who  value  the  retreat 
and  the  shelter  to  recover  from  the  embarrassing  recognition 
and  the  objectless  saunter  through  the  streets.  The  ruin,  the 
distress,  the  despair,  that  wait  so  closely  upon  the  heels  of 
fashion,  pass  here  with  their  victims.  It  is  the  last  step  within 
the  bounds  of  respectability.  They  still  live  "at  the  West  end," 
while  they  dine  in  Rupert  street.  They  may  still  linger  in  the 
Park,  or  stroll  in  Bond  street,  till  their  better-fledged  friends 
flit  to  dinner  at  the  clubs,  and,  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the 
luxurious  tables  and  the  gay  mirth  they  so  bitterly  remember, 
sit  down  to  an  ill-dressed  meal,  and  satisfy  the  calls  of  hunger 
in  silence.  Ah,  the  outskirts  of  the  bright  places  in  life  are 
darker  for  the  light  that  shines  so  near  them  !  How  much 
sweeter  is  the  coarsest  meal  shared  with  the  savage  in  the 
wilderness,  than  the  comparative  comfort  of  cooked  meats  and 
wine  in  a  neighborhood  like  this  ! 

Come  through  this  narrow  lane  into  Leicester  Square. 
You  cross  here  the  first  limit  of  the  fashionable  quarter.  The 
Sabloniere  hotel  is  in  this  square ;  but  you  may  not  give  it  as 
your  address  unless  you  are  a  foreigner.  This  is  the  home 
of  that  most  miserable  fish  out  of  water — a  Frenchman  in 
London.  A  bad  French  hotel,  and  two  or  three  execrable 
French  restaurants,  make  this  spot  the  most  habitable  to  the 
exiled  habitue  of  the  Palais  Royal.  Here  he  gets  a  mocking 
imitation  of  what,  in  any  possible  degree,  is  better  than  the 
sacre  hifteh^  or  the  half-raw  mutton-chop  and  barbarous  boiled 
potato  !  Here  he  comes  forth,  if  the  sun  shine  perchance  for 
one  hour  at  noon,  and  paces  up  and  down  on  the  side-walk, 


232  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

trying  to  get  the  better  of  his  bile  and  his  bad  breakfast. 
Here  waits  for  him  at  three,  the  shabby,  but  most  expensive 
remise  cab,  hired  by  the  day  for  as  much  as  would  support 
him  a  month  in  Paris.  Leicester  square  is  the  place  for  con- 
jurors, bird-fanciers,  showmen,  and  generally  for  every  fo- 
reign novelty  in  the  line  of  nostrums  and  marvels.  If  there 
is  a  dwarf  in  London,  or  a  child  with  two  heads,  you  will  see 
one  or  all  in  that  building,  so  radiant  with  placards,  and  so 
thronged  with  beggars. 

Come  on  through  Cranbourne  alley.  Old  clothes,  second- 
hand stays,  idem  shawls,  capes,  collars,  and  ladies'  articles  of 
ornamental  ware  generally  ;  cheap  straw  bonnets,  old  books, 
gingerbread,  and  stationery  !  Look  at  this  once-expensive 
and  finely-worked  muslin  cape !  What  fair  shoulders  did  it 
adorn  when  these  dingy  flowers  were  new^ — when  this  fine  lace 
edging  bounded  some  heaving  bosom,  perhaps,  like  frost-work 
on  the  edge  of  a  snow-drift.  It  has  been  the  property  of  some 
minion  of  elegance  and  wealth,  vicious  or  virtuous,  and  by 
what  hard  necessity  came  it  here  ?  Ten  to  one,  could  it  speak, 
its  history  would  keep  us  standing  at  this  shop  window,  indif- 
ferent alike  to  the  curious  glances  of  these  passing  damsels, 
and  the  gentle  eloquence  of  the  Jew  on  the  other  side,  who 
pays  us  the  unflattering  compliment  of  suggesting  an  improve- 
ment in  our  toilet  by  the  purchase  of  the  half- worn  habiliments 
he  exposes. 

I  like  Cranbourne  alley,  because  it  reminds  me  of  Venice. 
The  half  daylight  between  the  high  and  overhanging  roofs,  the 
just  audible  hum  of  voices  and  occupation  from  the  difierent 
shops,  the  shuflfling  of  hasty  feet  over  the  smooth  flags,  and 
particularly  the  absence  of  horses  and  wheels,  make  it  (in  all 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  233 


but  the  damp  air  and  the  softer  speech)  a  fair  resemblance  to 
those  close  passages  in  the  rear  of  the  canals  between  St. 
Mark's  and  the  Rialto.  Then  I  like  studying  a  pawnbroker's 
window,  and  I  like  ferreting  in  the  old  book-stalls  that  abound 
here.  It  is  a  good  lesson  in  humility  for  an  author  to  see 
what  he  can  be  bought  for  in  Cranbourne  alley.  Some 
"  gentle  reader,"  who  has  paid  a  guinea  and  a  half  for  you, 
has  resold  you  for  twoand  sixpence.  For  three  shillings  you 
may  have  the  three  volumes,  "  as  good  as  new,"  and  the  shop- 
man, by  his  civility,  pleased  to  be  rid  of  it  on  the  terms.  If 
you  would  console  yourself,  however,  buy  Milton  for  one- 
and-sixpence,  and  credit  your  vanity  with  the  eigh teen-pence 
of  the  remainder. 

The  labyrinth  of  alleys  between  this  and  Covent  Garden  are 
redolent  of  poverty  and  pothouses.  In  crossing  St.  Martin's 
lane,  life  appears  to  have  become  suddenly  a  struggle  and  a 
calamity.  Turbulent  and  dirty  women  are  everywhere  visible 
through  the  open  windows ;  the  half-naked  children  at  the 
doors  look  already  care-worn  and  incapable  of  a  smile;  and 
the  men  throng  the  gin-shops,  bloated,  surly,  and  repulsive. 
Hurry  through  this  leprous  spot  in  the  vast  body  of  London, 
and  let  us  emerge  in  the  Strand. 

You  would  think  London  Strand  the  main  artery  of  the 
world.  I  suppose  there  is  no  thoroughfare  on  the  face  of  the 
earth  where  the  stream  of  human  life  runs  with  a  tide  so  over- 
whelming. In  any  other  street  in  the  world  you  catch  the 
eye  of  the  passerby.  In  the  Strand,  no  man  sees  another  ex- 
cept as  a  solid  body,  whose  contact  is  to  be  avoided.  You 
are  safe  nowhere  on  the  pavement  without  all  the  vigilance  of 
your  senses.     Omnibuses  and  cabs,  drays,  carriages,  wheel- 


234  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


barrows,  and  porters,  beset  the  street.  Newspaper-hawkers, 
pickpockets,  shop^boys,  coal-heavers,  and  a  perpetual  and 
selfish  crowd  dispute  the  sidewalk.  If  you  venture  to  look 
at  a  print  in  a  shop-window,  you  arrest  the  tide  of  passengers, 
who  immediately  walk  over  you ;  and,  if  you  stop  to  speak 
with  a  friend,  who  by  chance  has  run  his  nose  against  yours 
rather  than  another  man's,  you  impede  the  way,  and  are  made 
to  understand  it  by  the  force  of  jostling.  If  you  would  get 
into  an  omnibus  you  are  quarrelled  for  by  half  a-dozen  who 
catch  your  eye  at  once ;  and  after  using  all  your  physical 
strength  and  most  of  your  discrimination,  you  are  most  proba- 
bly embarked  in  the  wrong  one,  and  are  going  at  ten  miles  the 
hour  to  Blackwell,  when  you  are  bound  tx3  Islington.  A 
Londoner  passes  his  life  in  learning  the  most  adroit  mode  of 
threading  a  crowd,  and  escaping  compulsory  journeys  in  cabs 
and  omnibuses ;  and  dine  with  any  man  in  that  metropolis 
from  twenty-five  to  sixty  years  of  age,  and  he  will  entertain 
you,  from  the  soup  to  the  Curacoa,  with  his  hair-breadth 
escapes  and  difiiculties  with  cads  and  coach-drivers. 


LONDON. 


A  Londoner,  if  met  abroad,  answers  very  vaguely  any 
questions  you  may  be  rash  enough  to  put  to  him  about  "  the 
city."  Talk  to  him  of  *'  town,"  and  he  would  rather  miss 
seeing  St.  Peter's,  than  appear  ignorant  of  any  person,  thing, 
custom,  or  fashion,  concerning  whom  or  which  you  might 
have  a  curiosity.  It  is  understood  all  over  the  world  that  the 
"  city  "  of  London  is  that  crowded,  smoky,  jostling,  omnibus 
and  cab-haunted  portion  of  the  metropolis  of  England  which 
lies  east  of  Temple  Bar.  A  kind  of  debatable  country,  con- 
sisting^ of  the  Strand,  Covent  Garden,  and  Tottenham  Court 
road,  then  intervenes,  and  west  of  these  lies  what  is  called 
"  the  town."  A  transit  from  one  to  the  other  by  an  inhabit- 
ant of  either,  is  a  matter  of  some    forethought  and  provision. 


236  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


If  milord^  in  Carlton  Terrace,  for  example,  finds  it  necessary 
-to  visit  his  banker  in  Lombard  street,  he  orders — not  the 
blood  bay  and  the  cane  tilbury  which  he  is  wont  to  drive  in 
the  morning — but  the  crop  roadster  in  the  cab,  with  the  night 
harness,  and  Poppet  his  tiger  in  plain  hat  and  gaiters.  If  the 
banker  in  Lombard  street,  on  the  contrary,  emerges  from  the 
twilight  of  his  counting-house  to  make  a  morning  call  on  the 
wife  of  some  foreign  correspondent,  lodging  at  the  Clarendon, 
he  steps  into  a  Piccadilly  omnibus,  not  in  the  salt-and-pepper 
creations  of  his  Cheapside  tailor,  but  (for  he  has  an  account 
with  Stultz  also  for  the  west-end  business)  in  a  claret-colored 
frock  of  the  last  fashion  at  Crockford's,  a  fresh  hat  from  New 
Bond  street,  and  (if  he  is  j^oung)  a  pair  of  cherished  boots 
from  the  Hue  St.  Honore.  He  sits  very  clear  of  his  neighbors 
on  the  way,  and,  getting  out  at  the  crossing  at  Farrance's,  the 
pastry  cook,  steps  in  and  indulges  in  a  soup,  and  then  walks 
bIowI)'  past  the  clubs  to  his  rendezvous,  at  a  pace  that  would 
ruin  his  credit  irrevocably  if  practised  a  mile  to  the  eastward. 
The  diflference  between  the  two  migrations  is,  simply,  that 
though  the  nobleman  affects  the  plainness  of  the  city,  he  would 
not  for  the  world  be  taken  for  a  citizen  ;  while  the  junior  part- 
ner of  the  house  of  Firkins  and  Co.  would  feel  unpleasantly 
surprised  if  he  were  not  supposed  to  be  a  member  of  the 
Clubs,  lounging  to  a  late  breakfast. 

There  is  a  "  town  "  manner,  too,  and  a  "  city  "  manner, 
practised  with  great  nicety  by  all  who  frequent  both  extremi- 
ties of  London.  Nothing  could  be  in  more  violent  cpntrast, 
for  example,  than  the  manner  of  your  banker  when  you  dine 
with  him  at  his  country  house,  and  the  same  person  when  you 
meet  him  on  the  narrow  sidewalk  in  Throgmoitou  street.     If 


TALKS    OVER  TRAVEL.  gg^ 


you  bad  seen  him  first  in  his  suburban  retreat,  you  would 
wonder  how  the  deuce  such  a  cordial,  joyous,  spare-nothing 
sort  of  good  fellow  could  ever  reduce  himself  to  the  cautious 
proportions  of  Change  alley.  If  you  met  him  first  in  Change 
alley,  on  the  contrary,  you  would  wonder,  with  quite  as  much 
embarrassment,  how  such  a  cold,  two-fingered,  pucker-browed 
slave  of  Mammon  could  ever,  by  any  license  of  interpretation, 
be  called  a  gentleman.  And  when  you  have  seen  him  in 
both  places,  and  know  him  well,  if  he  is  a  favorable  specimen 
of  his  class,  you  will  be  astonished  still  more  to  see  how  com- 
pletely he  will  sustain  both  characters — giving  you  the  cold 
shoulder,  in  a  way  that  half  insults  you,  at  twelve  in  the 
morning,  and  putting  his  home,  horses,  cellar,  and  servants, 
completely  at  your  disposal  at  four  in  the  afternoon.  Two 
souls  inhabit  the  banker's  body,  and  each  is .  apparently  sole 
tenant  in  turn.  As  the  Hampstead  early  coach  turns  the  cor- 
ner by  St.  Giles's,  on  its  way  to  the  bank,  the  spirit  of  gain 
enters  into  the  bosom  of  the  junior  Pirkins,  ejecting,  till  the 
coach  passes  the  same  spot  at  three  in  the  afternoon,  the  more 
gentlemanly  inhabitants.  Between  those  hours,  look  to  Fir- 
kins for  no  larger  sentiment  than  may  be  written  upon  the 
blank  lines  of  a  note  of  hand,  and  expect  no  courtesy  that 
would  occupy  the  head  or  hands  of  the  junior  partner  longer 
than  one  second  by  St.  Paul's.  With  the  broad  beam  of 
sunshine  that  inundates  the  returning  omnibus  emerging  from 
Holborn  into  Tottenham  court  road,  the  angel  of  port  wine 
and  green  fields  passes  his  finger  across  Firkins's  brow,  and 
presto  !  the  man  is  changed.  The  sight  of  a  long  and  narrow 
strip  of  paper,  sticking  from  his  neighbor's  pocket,  depreciates 
that  person  in  his  estimation,  he  criticises  the  livery  and  riding 


238  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


of  the  groom  trotting  past,  says  some  very  true  things  of  the 
architecture  of  the  new  cottage  on  the  roadside,  and  is  landed 
at  the  end  of  his   own   shrubbery,  as  pleasant  and  joyous- 
ooking  a  fellow  as  you  would  meet  on  that  side  of  London. 
You  have  ridden  out  to  dine  with  him,   and  as  he  meets  you 
on   the   lawn,  there  is  still  an  hour  to  dinner,  and  a  blood 
horse  spatters  round  from  the  stables,  which  you  are  welcome 
to  drive  to  the  devil  if  you  like,  accompanied  either  by  Mrs. 
Firkins  or  himself;  or,  if  you  like  it  better,   there  are  Mrs. 
Firkins's  two  ponies,  and  the  chaise  holds  two  and  the  tiger. 
Ten  to  one  Mrs.  Firkins  is  a  pretty  woman,  and  has  her 
whims,  and  when  you  are  fairly  on  the  road,  she  proposes  to 
leave  the  soup  and  champaign  at  home  to  equalize  their  ex- 
tremes of  temperature,   drive  to  Whitehall   Stairs,   take  boat 
and  dine,  extempore^  at  Richmond.     And  Firkins,  to  whom  it 
will  be  at  least  twenty  pounds  out  of  pocket,  claps  his  hands 
ahd  says — "  By  Jove,  it's  a  bright  thought !  touch  up  the  near 
pony,  Mrs.  Firkins."     And  away  you  go,    Firkins  amusing 
himself  the  whole  way  from  Hampstead  to  Richmond,  imag- 
ining the  consternation  of  his  cook  and  butler  when  nobody 
<jomes  to  dine. 

There  is  an  aristocracy  in  the  city,  of  course,  and  Firkins 
will  do  business  with  twenty  persons  in  a  day  whom  he  could 
never  introduce  to  Mrs.  Firkins.  The  situation  of  that  lady 
with  respect  to  her  society  is  (she  will  tell  you  in  confidence) 
rather  embarrassing.  There  are  very  many  worthy  persons, 
she  will  say,  who  represent  large  sums  of  money  or  great  in- 
terests in  trade,  whom  it  is  necessary  to  ask  to  the  Lodge,  but 
who  are  far  from  being  ornamental  to  her  new  blue  satin  bou- 
doir.    She  has  often  proposed  to  Firkins  to  have  them  labelled 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL. 


239 


in  tens  and  thousands,  according  to  their  fo'rtunes ;  that  if,  by 
any  unpleasant  accident,  Lord  Augustus  should  meet  them 
there,  he  might  respect  them  like  =  in  algebra,  for  what  they 
stand  for.  But  as  it  is,  she  is  really  never  safe  in  calculating 
on  a  societe  choisie  to  dine  or  sup.  When  Hook  or  Smith  is 
just  beginning  to  melt  out,  or  Lady  Priscilla  is  in  the  middle 
of  a  charade,  in  walks  Mr.  Snooks,  of  the  foreign  house  of 
Snooks,  Son,  and  Co. — "  unexpectedly  arrived  from  Lisbon, 
and  run  down  without  ceremony  to  call  on  his  respectable 
correspondent." 

"  Isn't  it  tiresome  ?" 

"  Very,  my  dear  madam  !  But  then  you  have  the  happi- 
ness of  knowing  that  you  promote  very  essentially  your  hus- 
band's interests,  and  when  he  has  made  a  plum " 

"  Yes,  very  true  ;  and  then,  to  be  sure.  Firkins  has  had  to 
build  papa  a  villa,  and  buy  my  brother  Wilfred  a  commission, 
and  settle  an  annuity  on  my  aunt,  and  fit  out  my  youngest 
brother  Bob  to  India ;  and  when  I  think  of  what  he  does  for 
my  family,  why  I  don't  mind  making  now  and  then  a  sacrifice 
— but,  after  all,  it's  a  great  evil  not  to  be  able  to  cultivate 
one's  own  class  of  society." 

And  so  murmurs  Mrs.  Firkins,  who  is  the  prettiest  and 
sweetest  creature  in  the  world,  and  really  loves  the  husband 
she  married  for  his  fortune ;  but  as  the  prosperity  of  Haman 
was  nothing  while  Mordecai  sat  at  the  gate,  it  is  nothing  to 
Mrs.  Firkins  that  her  father  lives  in  luxury,  that  her  brothers 
are  portioned  off,  and  that  she  herself  can  have  blue  boudoirs 
and  pony-chaises  ad  libitum,  while  Snooks,  Son  and  Co.  may 
at  any  moment  break  in  upon  the  charade  of  Lady  Pris- 
cilla! 


240  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


There  is  a  class  of  business  people  in  London,  mostly  bach- 
elors, who  have  wisely  declared  themselves  independent  of  the 
West  End,  and  live  in  a  style  of  their  own  in  the  dark  courts 
and  alleys  about  the  Exchange,  but  with  a  luxury  not  exceed- 
ed even  in  the  silken  recesses  of  May  Fair.  You  will  some- 
times meet  at  the  opera  a  young  man  of  decided  style,  unex- 
ceptionable in  his  toilet,  and  quiet  and  gentlemanlike  in  his 
address,  who  contents  himself  with  the  side  alley  of  the  pit, 
and  looks  at  the  bright  circles  of  beauty  and  fashion  about 
him  with  an  indifference  it  is  difficult  to  explain.  Make  his 
acquaintance  by  chance,  and  he  takes  you  home  to  supper  in 
a  plain  chariot  on  the  best  springs  Long  Acre  can  turn  out ; 
and  while  you  are  speculating  where,  in  the  name  of  the  Prince 
of  Darkness,  these  narrow  streets  will  bring  you  to,  you  are 
introduced  through  a  small  door  into  saloons,  perfect  in  taste 
and  luxury,  where,  ten  to  one,  you  sup  with  the  prijna  do?inaf 
or  la  premiere  daiiseuse^  but  certainly  with  the  most  polished 
persons  of  your  own  sex,  not  one  of  whom,  though  you  may 
have  passed  a  life  in  London,  you  ever  met  in  society  before. 
There  are,  I  doubt  not,  in  that  vast  metropolis,  hundreds  of 
small  circles  of  society,  composed  thus  of  persons  refined  by 
travel  and  luxury,  whose  very  existence  in  unsuspected  by  the 
fine  gentleman  at  the  West  End,  but  who,  in  the  science  of 
living  agreeably,  are  almost  as  well  entitled  to  rank  among  the 
cognoscenti  as  Lord  Sefton  or  the  "  Member  for  Finsbury." 


LONDON. 


You  return  from  your  ramble  in  "  the  city  "  by  two  o'clock. 

A  bright  day  "  toward,"  and  the  season  in  its  palmy  time. 

The  old  veterans  are  just  creeping  out  upon  the  portico  of  the 

United  Service   Club,   having  crammed  "  The  Times"  over 

their  late  breakfast,  and  thus  prepared  their  politics  against 

surprise  for  the  day  ;  the  broad  steps  of  the  Athenaeum  are 

as  yet  unthronged  by  the  shuffling  feet  of  the  literati,  whose 

morning  is  longer  and  more  secluded  than  that  of  idler  men, 

but  who  will  be  seen  in  swarms,  at  four,  entering  that  superb 

edifice   in   company   with  the  employes  and  politicians  who 

aflfect  their  society.  Not  a  cab  stands  yet  at  the  "  Travellers," 

whose  members,  noble  or  fashionable,  are  probably  at  this 

hour  in  their  dressing-gowns  of  brocade  or  shawl  of  the  orient, 

smoking  a  hookah  over  Balzac's  last  romance,  or  pursuing  at 
11 


242  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

this  (to  them)  desert  time  of  da}^  some  adventure  which 
waited  upon  their  love  and  leisure.  It  is  early  yet  for  the 
Park ;  but  the  equipages  you  will  see  by-and-by  "  in  the 
rinor "  are  standing  now  at  Howell  and  James's,  and  while  the 
high-bred  horses  are  fretting  at  the  door,  and  the  liveried  foot- 
men lean  on  their  gold-headed  sticks  on  the  pavement,  the 
fair  creature  whose  slightest  nod  these  trained  minions  and 
their  fine-limbed  animals  live  to  obey,  sits  upon  a  three-legged 
stool  within,  and  in  the  voice  \/hich  is  a  spell  upon  all  hearts, 
and  with  eyes  to  which  rank  and  genius  turn  like  Persians 
to  the  sun,  discusses  with  a  pert  clerk  the  qualit}''  of  stock- 
ings ! 

Look  at  these  equipages  and  their  appointments  !  Mark 
the  exquisite  balance  of  that  claret-bodied  chariot  upon  its 
springs — the  fine  sway  of  its  sumptuous  hammercloth  in  which 
the  un-smiling  coachman  sits  buried  to  the  middle — the  exact 
fit  of  the  saddles,  setting  into  the  curve  of  the  horse's  backs 
so  as  not  to  break,  to  the  most  careless  eye,  the  fine  lines 
which  exhibit  action  and  grace !  See  how  they  stand  toge- 
ther— alert,  fier}',  yet  obedient  to  the  weight  of  a  silken 
thread  ;  and  as  the  coachman  sees  you  studying  his  turn-out, 
observe  the  imperceptible  feel  of  the  reins  and  the  just-visible 
motion  of  his  lips,  conveying  to  the  quick  ears  of  his  horses 
the  premonitory,  and,  to  us,  inaudible  sound,  to  which,  with- 
out drawing  a  hair's  breadth  upon  the  traces,  they  paw  their 
fine  hoofs,  and  expand  their  nostrils  impatiently  !  Come  nearer, 
and  find  a  speck  or  a  raised  hair,  if  you  can,  on  these  glossy 
coats!  Observe  the  nice  fitness  of  the  dead  black  harness,  the 
modest  crest  upon  the  panel,  the  delicate  picking  out  of  white 
in  the  wheels,  and,  if  you   will   venture  upon  a  freedom  in 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  g.^ 


maDners,  look  in  through  the  whidow  of  rose-teinted  glass, 
and  see  the  splendid  cushions  and  the  costly  and  splendid 
adaptation  of  the  interior.  The  twin-mated  footmen  fly  to 
the  carriage-door,  and  the  pomatumed  clerk  who  has  enjoyed 
a  tete-atete  for  which  a  Prince  Royal  might  sigh,  and  an  Am- 
bassador might  negociate  in  vain,  hands  in  his  parcel.  The 
small  foot  presses  on  the  carpeted  step,  the  airy  vehicle  yields 
lightly  and  recovers  from  the  slight  weight  of  the  descending 
form,  the  coachman  inclines  his  ear  for  the  half-suppressed  or- 
der from  the  footman,  and  off  whirls  the  admirable  structure, 
compact,  true,  steady,  but  magically  free  and  fast — as  if 
horses,  footmen,  and  chariot  were  but  the  parts  of  some 
complicated  centaur — some  swift-moving  monster  upon  legs 
and  wheels  ! 

Walk  on  a  little  farther  to  the  Quadrant.  Here  commences 
the  most  thronged  promenade  in  London.  These  crescent 
colonnades  are  the  haunt  of  foreigners  on  the  lookout  for 
amusement,  and  of  strangers  in  the  metropolis  generally.  You 
will  seldom  find  a  town-bred  man  there,  for  he  prefers  haunt- 
ing his  clubs;  or,  if  he  is  not  a  member  of  them,  he  avoids 
lounging  much  in  the  Quadrant,  lest  he  should  appear  to  have  no 
other  resort.  You  will  observe  a  town  dandy  getting  fidgety 
after  his  second  turn  in  the  Quadrant,  while  you  will  meet  the 
same  Frenchman  there  from  noon  till  dusk,  bounding  his 
walk  by  those  columns  as  if  they  were  the  bars  of  a  cage. 
The  western  side  toward  Piccadilly  is  the  thoroughfare  of  the 
honest  passer-by ;  but  under  the  long  portico  opposite,  you 
will  meet  vice  in  every  degree,  and  perhaps  more  beauty  than 
on  any  o\X\qt  pave  in  the  world.  It  is  given  up  to  the  vicious 
and  their  followers  by  general  consent.     To  frequent  it,  or  to 


244  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

be  seen  loitering  there  at  all,  is  to  make  but  one  impression  on 
the  mind  of  those  who  may  observe  you. 

The  two  sides  of  Regent  street  continue  to  partake  of  this 
distinction  to  the  end.  Go  up  on  the  left,  and  you  meet  the 
sober  citizen  perambulating  with  his  wife,  the  lady  followed 
by  her  footman,  the  grave  and  the  respectable  of  all  classes. 
Go  up  on  the  other,  and  in  color  and  mien  it  is  the  difference 
between  a  grass-walk  and  a  bed  of  tulips.  What  proof  is  hero 
that  beauty  is  dangerous  to  its  possessor  !  It  is  said  com- 
monly of  Regent  street,  that  it  shows  more  beauty  in  an  hour 
than  could  be  found  in  all  the  capitals  of  the  continent.  It  is 
the  beauty,  however,  of  brilliant  health — of  complexion  and 
freshness,  more  than  of  sentiment  or  classic  correctness.  The 
English  features,  at  least  in  the  middle  and  lower  ranks,  are 
seldom  good,  though  the  round  cheek,  the  sparkling  lip,  the 
soft  blue  eyes  and  hair  of  dark  auburn,  common  as  health  and 
yuuth,  produce  the  effect  of  high  and  almost  universal  beauty 
on  the  eye  of  the  stranger.  The  rarest  thing  in  these  classes 
is  a  finely-turned  limb,  and  to  the  clumsiness  of  their  feet  and 
ankles  must  be  attributed  the  want  of  grace  usually  remarked 
in  their  movements. 

Regent  street  has  appeared  to  me  the  greatest  and  most 
oppressive  solitude  in  the  world.  In  a  crowd  of  business 
men,  or  in  the  thronged  and  mi.xed  gardens  of  the  continent, 
the  pre-occupation  of  others  is  less  attractive,  or  at  least,  more 
within  our  reach,  if  we  would  share  in  it.  Here,  it  is  wealth 
beyond  competition,  e.xclusiveness  and  indifference  perfectly 
unapproachable.  In  the  cold  and  stern  mien  of  the  practised 
Londoner,  it  is  difficult  for  a  stranger  not  to  read  distrust,  and 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL. 


245 


very  difficult  for  a  depressed  mind  not  to  feel  a  marked  repul- 
sion. There  is  no  solitude  after  ^11  like  the  solitude  of  cities. 
"  0  dear,  dear  London"  (says  the  companion  of  Asmodeus 
on  his  return  from  France,)  "  dear  even  in  October  !  Regent 
street,  I  salute  you !  Bond  street,  my  good  fellow,  how  are 
you  ?  And  you,  oh,  beloved  Oxford  street,  whom  the  opium- 
eater  called  '  stony-hearted,'  and  whom  I,  eating  no  opium,  and 
speaking  as  I  find,  shall  ever  consider  the  most  kindly  and  ma- 
ternal of  all  streets — the  street  of  the  middle  classes — busy 
without  uproar,  wealthy  without  ostentation.  Ah,  the  pretty 
ankles  that  trip  along  thy  pavement !  Ah  !  the  odd  country- 
cousin  bonnets  that  peer  into  thy  windows,  which  are  lined  with 
cheap  yellow  shawls,  price  one  pound  four  shillings  marked  in 
the  corner  !  Ah  !  the  brisk  young  lawyers  flocking  from  their 
quarters  at  the  back  of  Holborn  !  Ah  !  the  quiet  old  ladies, 
living  in  Duchess  street,  and  visiting  thee  with  their  eldest 
daughters  in  the  hope  of  a  bargain  !  Ah,  the  bumpkins  from 
Norfolk  just  disgorged  by  the  Bull  and  Mouth — the  soldiers 
— the  milliners — the  Frenchmen — the  swindlers — the  porters 
with  four-post  beds  on  their  backs,  who  add  the  excitement 
of  danger  to  that  of  amusement !  The  various  shifting,  motley 
group  that  belong  to  Oxford  street,'  and  Oxford  street  alone  ! 
What  thoroughfares  equal  thee  in  the  variety  of  human  speci- 
mens !  in  the  choice  of  objects  for  remark,  satire,  admiration  ! 
Besides,  the  other  streets  seem  chalked  out  for  a  sect — narrow- 
minded  and  devoted  to  a  coterie.  Thou  alone  art  catholic — 
all-receiving.  Regent  street  belongs  to  foreigners,  segars,  and 
ladies  in  red  silk,  whose  characters  are  above  scandal.  Bond 
street  belongs  to  dandies  and  picture  dealers.  St.  James's 
street  to  club  loungers  and  young  men  in  the  guards,  with 


246  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


mustaches  properly  blackened  by  the  aire  of  Mr.  Delcroix ; 
but  thou,  Oxford  Street,  what  class  can  especially  claim  thee 
as  its  own  ?  Thou  mockest  at  oligarchies ;  thou  knowest 
nothing  of  select  orders  !  Thou  art  liberal  as  air — a  chartered 
libertine ;  accepting  the  homage  of  all,  and  retaining  the  stamp 
of  none.  And  to  call  thee  *  stony-hearted  !' — certainly  thou 
art  so  to  beggars — ^to  people  who  have  not  the  wherewithal. 
But  thou  wouldst  not  be  so  respectable  if  thou  wert  not  capa- 
ble of  a  certain  reserve  to  paupers.  Thou  art  civil  enough,  in 
all  conscience,  to  those  who  have  a  shilling  in  their  pocket 
■ — those  who  have  not,  why  do  they  live  at  all  ?" 


LONDON. 


It  is  near  four  o'clock,  and  in  Bond  street  you  might  almost 
walk  on  the  heads  of  livery-servants — at  every  stride  stepping 
over  the  heads  of  two  ladies  and  a  dandy  exclusive.  Tho- 
roughfare it  is  none,  for  the  carriages  are  creeping  on,  inch 
by  inch,  the  blood-horses  "  marking  time,"  the  coachman 
M^atchful  for  his  panels  and  whippletrees,  and  the  lady  within 
her  silken  chariot,  lounging  back,  with  her  eyes  upon  the  pass- 
ing line,  neither  impatient  nor  surprised  at  the  delay,  for  sho 
came  there  on  purpose.  Between  the  swaying  bodies  of  the 
carriages,  hesitating  past,  she  receives  the  smiles  and  re(;og- 
nitions  of  all  her  male  acquaintances;  while  occasionally  a  fe- 
male ally  (fur  allies  against  the  rest  of  the  sex  are  as  necessary 
in  society  to  women,  as  in  war  to  monarchs) — occasionally,  I 

[247] 


248        FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


say,  a  female  ally  announced  by  the  crest  upon  the  blinker 
of  an  advancing  horse,  arrives  opposite  her  window,  and,  with 
only  the  necessary  delay  in  passing,  they  exchange,  perhaps, 
inquiries  for  health,  but,  certainly,  programmes,  comprehensive 
though  brief,  for  the  prosecution  of  each  other's  loves  or  hates. 
Occasionally  a  hack  cab,  seduced  into  attempting  Bond  street 
by  some  momentary  opening,  finds  itself  closed  in,  forty  deep, 
by  chariots,  britzas,  landaus,  and  family  coaches ;  and  amid 
the  imperturbable  and  unauswering  whips  of  the  hammer- 
cloth,  with  a  passenger  who  is  losing  the  coach  by  the  delay, 
he  must  wait,  will-he-nill-he,  till  some  "  pottering"  Dowager 
has  purchased  the  oldliord  his  winter  flannels,  or  till  the 
Countess  of  Loiter  has  said  all  she  has  to  say  to  the  guards- 
man whom  she  has  mot  accidentally  at  Pluckrose  the  perfu- 
mer's. The  three  tall  fellows,  with  gold  sticks,  would  see 
the  entire  plebeian  population  of  London  thrice-sodden  in  vit- 
riol, before  they  would  advance  miladi's  carriage  a  step,  or  ap- 
pear to  possess  eyes  or  ears  for  the  infuriated  cabman. 

Bond  street,  at  this  hour,  is  a  study  t'or  such  observers,  as, 
having  gone  through  an  apprenticeship  of  criticism  upon  all 
the  other  races  and  grades  of  men  and  gentlemen  in  the  world, 
are  now  prepared  to  study  their  species  in  its  highest  fashion- 
able phase — that  of  "  nice  persons"  at  the  West  End.  The 
Oxford  street  "  swell,"  aod  the  Regent  street  dandy,  if  seen 
here,  are  out  of  place.  The  expressive  word  "  quiet"  (with  its 
present  London  signification,)  defines  the  dress,  manner,  bow, 
and  even  physiognomy,  of  every  true  denizen  of  St.  James's 
and  Bond  street.  The  great  principle  among  men  of  the 
Clubs,  in  all  these  particulars,  is  to  subdue — to  deprive  their 
coats,  hats,  and  manners,  of  everything  sufficiently  mnrkod  to 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL. 


249 


be  caricatured  by  the  ealirical  or  imitated  by  the  vulgar. 
The  triumph  oi  style  seems  to  be  that  the  lines  which  define  it 
shall  be  imperceptible  to  the  common  eye — that  it  shall  require 
the  difficult  education  which  creates  it  to  know  its  form  and 
limit.  Hence  an  almost  universal  error  with  regard  to  Eng- 
lish gentlemen — that  they  are  repulsive  and  cold.  With  a  thou- 
sand times  the  heart  and  real  politeness  of  the  Frenchman, 
they  meet  you  with  the  simple  and  unafifected  address  which 
would  probably  be  that  of  shades  in  Elysium,  between  whom 
(we  may  suppose)  there  is  no  longer  etiquette  or  concealment. 
The  only  exceptions  to  this  rule  in  London,  are,  first  and 
alone,  Count  D'Orsay,  whose  extraordinary  and  original  style, 
marked  as  it  is,  is  inimitable  by  any  man  of  less  brilliant 
talents  and  less  beauty  of  person,  and  the  king's  guardsmen, 
who  are  dandies  by  prescriptive  right,  or,  as  it  were,  profession- 
ally. All  other  men  w^ho  are  members  of  Brooks's  and  the 
Traveller's,  and  frequent  Bond  street  in  the  tiush  of  the  after- 
noon, are  what  would  be  called  in  America,  plain  unornamen- 
tal,  and,  perhaps,  ill-dressed  individuals,  who  would  strike  you 
more  by  the  absence  than  the  possession  of  all  the  peculiari- 
ties which  we  generally  suppose  marks  a  "  picked  man  of 
countries."  In  America,  particularly,  we  are  liable  to  error 
on  this  point,  as,  of  the  great  number  of  our  travellers  for  im- 
provement, scarce  one  in  a  thousand  remains  longer  in  London 
than  to  visit  the  Tower  and  the  Thames  tunnel.  The  nine 
hundred  and  ninety  nine  reside  principally,  and  acquire  all  they 
get  of  foreign  manner  and  style,  at  Paris — the  very  most  arti- 
ficial, corrupt,  and 'affected  school  for  gentlemen  in  the  polite 
world. 

Prejudice  against  any  one  country  is  an  illiberal  feeling, 
11* 


250  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


which  common  reflection  should,  and  which  enhghtened  travel 
usually  does,  entirely  remove.  There  is  a  vulgar  prejudice 
against  the  English  in  almost  all  countries,  but  more  particu- 
larly in  ours,  which  blinds  its  entertainers  to  much  that  is 
admirable,  and  deprives  them  of  the  good  drawn  from  the  best 
models.  The  troop  of  scurrilous  critics,  the  class  of  English 
bagmen,  and  errant  vulgarians  of  all  kinds,  and  the  industri- 
ously-blown coals  of  old  hostilities,  are  barriers  which  an  edu- 
cated mind  may  well  overlook,  and  barriers  beyond  which  lie, 
no  doubt,  the  best  examples  of  true  civilization  and  refinement 
the  world  ever  saw.  But  we  are  getting  into  an  essay  when 
v^  should  be  turning  down  Bruton  street,  on  our  way  to  the 
Park,  with  all  the  fashion  of  Bond  street  and  May  Fair. 

May  Fair  !  what  a  name  for  the  core  of  dissipated  and  ex- 
clusive London  !  A  name  that  brings  with  it  only  the  scent 
of  crushed  flowers  in  a  green  field,  of  a  pole  wreathed  with 
roses,  booths  crowded  with  dancing  peasant-girls,  and  nature 
in  its  holyday  !  This — to  express  the  costly,  the  courtlike, 
the  so  called  "  heartless  "  precinct  of  fashion  and  art,  in  their 
most  authentic  and  envied  perfection.  Mais^  les  extremes  se 
touchenty  and,  perhaps,  there  is  more  nature  in  May  Fair 
than  in  Rose  Cottage  or  Honeysuckle  Lodge. 
"  We  stroll  on  through  Berkeley  square,  by  Chesterfield  and 
Curzon  streets  to  the  Park  gate.  What  an  aristocratic  quiet 
reigns  here  I  How  plain  are  the  exteriors  of  these  houses  : — 
how  unexpressive  these  doors,  without  a  name,  of  the  luxury 
and  high-born  pride  within  !  At  the  open  window  of  the  hall 
sit  the  butler  and  footman,  reading  the  morning  paper,  while 
they  wait  to  dispense  the  **  not  at  home"  to  callers  not  disap- 
pointed.    The  rooks  are  noisy  in  the  old  trees  o^  Chesterfield 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  251 

house.  The  painted  window-screens  of  tho  probably  still- 
Blumbering  Count  D'Orsay,  in  his  bachelor's  den,  are  closely 
drawn,  and,  as  we  pass  Seymour  place,  a  crowd  of  gay  cabs 
and  diplomatic  chariots,  drawn  up  before  the  dark-green  door 
at  the  farther  extremity,  announce  to  you  the  residence  of  one 
whose  morning  and  evening  levees  are  alike  thronged  by  dis- 
tinction and  talent — the  beautiful  Lady  Blessington. 

This  short  turn  brings  us  to  the  Park,  w^hich  is  rapidly 
filling  with  vehicles  of  every  fashion  and  color,  and  with  pe- 
destrians and  horsemen  innumerable.  No  hackney  coach, 
street-cub,  cart,  or  pauper,  is  allowed  to  pass  the  porters  at 
the  several  gates  :  the  road  is  macadamised  and  watered,  and 
the  grass  within  the  ring  is  fresh  and  verdant.  The  sun  here 
triumphs  partially  over  the  skirt  of  London  smoke,  which 
sways  backward  and  forward  over  the  chimneys  of  Park  lane, 
and,  as  far  as  it  is  possible  so  near  the  dingy  halo  of  the  me- 
tropolis, the  gay  occupants  of  these  varied  conveyances  "  take 
the  air." 

Let  us  stand  by  the  railing  a  moment,  and  see  what  comes 
by.  This  is  the  field  of  display  for  the  coachman,  who  sits 
upon  his  sumptuous  hammercloth,  and  takes  more  pride  in 
his  horses  than  their  owner,  and  considers  them,  if  not  like 
his  own  honor  and  blood,  very  like  his  own  property.  Watch 
the  delicate  handling  of  his  ribands,  the  affected  nonchalance 
of  his  air,  and  see  how  perfectly,  how  admirably,  how  beau- 
tifully, move  his  blood  horses,  and  how  steadily  and  well 
follows  the  compact  carriage !  Within  (it  is  a  dark-green 
caleche^  and  the  liveries  are  drab,  with  red  edgings)  sits  the 
oriental  form  and  bright  spiritual  face  of  a  banker's  wife,  the 
daughter  of  a  noble  race,  who  might  have  been,  but  was  not, 


252  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


eacrificod  in  ''marrying  into  the  finance,"  and  wlio  soars  up 
into  the  sky  of  happiness,  like  the  unconscious  bird  that  has 
escaped  the  silent  arrow  of  the  savage,  as  if  her  destiny  could 
not  but  have  been  thus  fulfilled.  Who  follows  ?  D'Israeli, 
alone  in  his  cab ;  thoughtful,  melancholy,  disappointed  in  his 
political  schemes,  and  undervaluing  his  literary  success,  and 
expressing,  in  his  scholar-like  and  beautiful  profile,  as  he 
passes  us,  both  the  thirst  at  his  heart  and  the  satiety  at  hia 
lips.  The  livery  of  his  "  tiger  "  is  neglected,  and  he  drives 
like  a  man  who  has  to  choose  between  running  and  being  run 
against,  and  takes  that  which  leaves  him  the  most  leisure  for 
reflection.  Poor  D'Israeli !  With  a  kind  and  generous  heart, 
talents  of  the  most  brilliant  order,  an  ambition  which  consumes 
his  soul,  and  a  father  who  expects  everything  from  his  son; 
lost  for  the  want  of  a  tact  common  to  understandings  fa- 
thoms deep  below  his  own,  and  likely  to  drive  in  Hyde  Park 
forty  years  hence — if  he  die  not  of  the  corrosion  of  disappoint- 
ment— no  more  distinguished  than  now,  and  a  thousand  times 
more  melancholy.* 

An  open  barouche  follows,  drawn  by  a  pair  of  dark  bays, 
the  coachman  and  footman  in  suits  of  plain  gray,  and  no  crest 
on  the  panels.  A  lady,  of  remarkable  small  person,  sits,  with 
the  fairest  foot  ever  seen,  just  peeping  from  under  a  cashmere, 
on  the  forward  cushion,  and  from  under  her  peculiarly  plain 
and  small  bonnet  burn,  in  liquid  fire,  the  most  lambent  and 
spiritual  eyes  that  night  and  sleep  ever  hid  from  the  world. 
She  is  a  niece  of  Napoleon,  married  to  an  English  nobleman  ; 

•  This  picture  of  D'IsraeU  as  he  was,  notwithstanding  its  erroneous 
prophecy,  may  not  be  uninteresting  now. 


TALKS  OVEll  TllAVEL.  g^j 


and  beside  her  sits  her  father,  who  refused  the  throne  of  Tus- 
cany, a  noble-looking  man,  with  an  expression  of  calm  and 
tranquil  resignation  in  his  face,  unusually  plain  in  his  exterior, 
and  less  alive  than  most  of  the  gay  promenaders  to  the  bright 
scene  passing  about  him.  He  will  play  in  the  charade  at  his 
daughter's  soiree  in  the  evening,  however,  and  forget  his  exila 
and  his  misfortunes ;  for  he  is  a  fond  father  and  a  true  ph' 
losopher. 


LONDON. 


If  you  dine  with  all  the  world  at  seven,  you  have  ptill  an 
hour  or  more  for  Hyde  Park,  and  "  Rotten  Eow  ;"  this  half 
mile  between  Oxford  street  and  Piccadilly,  to  which  the  fasbion 
of  London  confines  itself  as  if  the  remainder  of  the  bright  green 
Park  were  forbidden  ground,  is  now  fuller  than  ever.  There 
is  the  advantage  of  this  condensed  drive,  that  you  are  sure  to 
see  your  friends  here,  earlier  or  later,  in  every  day — (for 
wherever  you  are  to  go  with  the  horses,  the  conclusion  of  the 
order  to  the  coachman  is,  "  home  by  the  Park") — and  then  if 
there  is  anything  new  in  the  way  of  an  arrival,  a  pretty 
foreigner,  or  a  fresh  face  from  the  country,  some  dandy's 
tiger  leaves  his  master  at  the  gate,  and  brings  him  at  his  Club, 
over  his  coffee,  all  possible  particulars  of  her  name,  residence, 

[254J 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  gSS 


coudition,  and  whatever  other  circumstances  fall   in  his  way. 

By  dropping  in  at  Lady 's  soiree  in  the  evening,  if  you 

were  interested  in  the  face,  you  may  inform  yourself  of  more 
than  you  would  have  drawn  in  a  year's  acquaintance  from  tlie 
subject  of  your  curiosity.  Malcqnojios  to  my  remark,  here 
comes  a  turn-out,  concerning  which  and  its  occupant  I  have 
made  many  inquiries  in  vain — the  pale-colored  chariot,  with  a 
pair  of  grays,  dashing  toward  us  from  the  Seymour  gate.  As 
it  comes  by  you  will  see,  sitting  quite  in  the  corner,  and  in  a 
very  languid  and  elegant  attitude,  a  slight  woman  of  perhaps 
twenty-four,  dressed  in  the  simplest  white  cottage-bonnet  that 
could  be  made,  and,  with  her  head  down,  looking  up  through 
heavy  black  eyelashes,  as  if  she  but  waited  till  she  had  passed 
a  particular  object,  to  resume  some  engrossing  revery.  Her 
features  are  Italian,  and  her  attitude,  always  the  same  indolent 
one,  has  also  a  redolence  of  that  land  of  repose;  but  there  has 
been  an  English  taste,  and  no  ordinary  one,  in  the  arrange- 
ment of  that  equipage  and  its  dependants;  and  by  the  expres- 
sion, never  mistaken  in  London,  of  the  well-appointed  menials, 
you  may  be  certain  that  both  master  and  mistress  (if  master 
there  be,)  exact  no  common  deference.  She  is  always  alone, 
and  not  often  seen  in  the  Park  ;  and  whenever  I  have  enquired 
of  those  likely  to  know,  I  found  that  she  had  been  observed, 
but  could  get  no  satisfactory  information.  She  disappears  by 
the  side  toward  the  Kegent's  park,  and  when  once  out  of  the 
gate,  her  horses  are  let  off  at  a  speed  that  distances  all  pur- 
suit that  would  not  attract  observation.  There  is  a  look  oi 
"  Who  the  deuce  can  it  be  ?"  in  the  faces  of  all  the  mounted 
dandies,  wherever  she  passes,  for  it  is  a  face  which  once  seen 
is    not   easily   thought  of    with    indiflference,    or    forgotten. 


256  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


Immense  as  London  is,  a  woman  of  anything  like  extraordi- 
nary beauty  would  find  it  difficult  to  live  there,  incognito,  a 
week ;  and  how  this  fair  incomprehensible  has  contrived  to 
elude  the  curiosity  of  Hyde-park  admiration,  for  nearly  two 
years,  is  rather  a  marvel.  There  she  goes,  however,  and  with- 
out danger  of  being  arrested  for  a  flying  highwayman,  you 
could  scarcely  follow. 

It  is  getting  late,  and,  as  we  turn  down  toward  the  Clubs, 
we  shall  meet  the  last  and  most  fashionable  comers  to  the 
Park.  Here  is  a  horseman,*  surrounded  with  half  a  dozen 
of  the  first  young  noblemen  of  England:  He  rides  a  light 
bay  horse  with  dark  legs,  whose  delicate  veins  are  like  the 
tracery  of  silken  threads  beneath  the  gloss  of  his  limbs,  and 
whose  small,  animated  head  seems  to  express  the  very  essence 
of  speed  and  fire.  He  is  the  most  beautiful  Park  horse  in 
England ;  and  behind  follows  a  high-bred  milk-white  pony, 
ridden  by  a  small,  faultlessly-dressed  groom,  who  sits  the  spi- 
rited and  fretting  creature  as  if  he  anticipated  every  movement 
before  the  fine  hoof  rose  from  the  ground.  He  rides  admira- 
bly, but  his  master  is  more  of  a  study.  A  luxuriance  of  black 
curls  escapes  from  the  broad  rim  of  a  peculiar  hat,  and  forms 
a  relief  to  the  small  and  sculpture  like  profile  of  a  face  as  per- 
fect, by  every  rule  of  beauty,  as  the  Greek  Antinous.  It 
would  be  too  feminine  but  for  the  muscular  neck  and  broad 
chest  from  which  the  head  rises,  and  the  indications  of  great 
personal  strength  in  the  Herculean  shoulders.  His  loose 
coat  would  disguise  the  proportions  of  a  less  admirable 
figure ;  but,  au  rcste,  his  dress  is  without  fold  or  wrinkle  and 

•   Count  D'Orsay. 


TALKS  OVER   TRAVEL  g^^ 


no  figurante  of  the  ballet  ever  showed  finer  or  more  ekilfully 
developed  limbs.  He  is  one  of  the  most  daring  in  this  country 
of  bold  riders  ;  but  modifies  the  stiff  English  school  of  eques- 
trianism, with  the  ease  and  grace  of  that  of  his  own  country. 
His  manner,  though  he  is  rather  Anglomane,  is  in  striking 
contrast  to  the  grave  and  quiet  air  of  his  companions;  and 
between  his  recognitions,  right  and  left,  to  the  passing  prome- 
naders,  he  laughs  and  amuses  himself  with  the  joyous  and 
thoughtless  gayety  of  a  child.  Acknowledged  by  all  his  ac- 
quaintances to  possess  splendid  talents,  this  "  observed  of  all 
observers"  is  a  singular  instance  of  a  modern  Sybarite — con- 
tent to  sacrifice  time,  opportunity,  and  the  highest  advantages 
of  mind  and  body,  to  the  pleasure  of  the  moment.  He  seems 
exempt  from  all  the  usual  penalties  of  such  a  career.  Nothing 
seems  to  do  its  usual  work  on  him — care,  nor  exhaustion,  nor 
recklessness,  nor  the  disapprobation  of  the  heavy-handed 
opinion  of  the  world.  Always  gay,  always  brilliant,  ready 
to  embark  at  any  moment,  or  at  any  hazard,  in  anything  that 
will  amuse  an  hour,  one  wonders  how  and  where  such  an  un- 
wonted meteor  will  disappear. 

But  here  comes  a  carriage  without  hammercloth  or  liveries 
— one  of  those  shabby-genteel  conveyances,  hired  by  the  week, 
containing  three  or  four  persons  in  the  highest  spirits,  all  talk- 
ing and  gesticulating  at  once.  As  the  carriage  passes  the 
"  beau-knot,"  (as ,  and  his  inseparable  group  are  some- 
times called)  one  or  two  of  the  dandies  spur  up,  and  resting 
their  hands  on  the  windows,  offer  the  compliments  of  the  day 
to  the  old  lady  within,  with  the  most  earnest  looks  of  admir- 
ation. The  gentlemen  in  her  company  become  silent,  and  an- 
swer to  the  slight  bows  of  the  cavaliers  with  foreign  monosyl- 


258  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


lables,  and  presently  the  coachman  whips  up  once  more,  the 
horsemen  drop  off,  and  the  excessive  gayety  of  the  party  re- 
sumes its  tone.  You  must  have  been  struck,  as  the  carriage 
passed,  with  the  brilliant  whiteness  and  regularity  of  the 
lady's  teeth,  and  still  more  with  the  remarkable  play  of  her 
lips,  which  move  as  if  the  blood  in  them  were  imprisoned 
lightning.  (The  figure  is  strong,  but  nothing  else  conveys  to 
my  own  mind  what  I  am  trying  to  describe.)  Energy,  grace, 
fire,  rapidity,  and  a  capability  of  utter  abandonment  to  passion 
and  expression,  live  visibly  on  those  lips.  Her  eyes  are  mag- 
nificent. Her  nose  is  regular,  with  nostrils  rimmed  round  with 
an  expansive  nerve,  that  gives  them  constantly  the  kind  of 
animation  visible  in  the  head  of  a  fiery  Arab.  Her  complexion 
is  one  of  those  w^hich,  dark  and  w^anting  in  brilliance  by  day, 
light  up  at  night  with  an  alabaster  fairness;  and  when  the 
glossy  black  hair,  which  is  now  put  away  so  plainly  under  her 
simple  bonnet,  falls  over  her  shoulders  in  heavy  masses,  the 
contrast  is  radiant.  The  gentlemen  in  that  carriage  are  Ru- 
bini,  Lablache,  and  a  gentleman  who  passes  for  the  lady's  un- 
cle ;  and  the  lady  is  Julia  Grisi. 

The  smoke  over  the  heart  of  the  city  begins  to  thicken  into 
darkness,  the  gas  lamps  are  shooting  up,  bright  and  star-like, 
along  the  Kensington  road,  and  the  last  promenaders  disap- 
pear. And  now  the  world  of  London,  the  rich  and  gay  por- 
tions of  it  at  least,  enjoy  that  which  compensates  them  for  the 
absence  of  the  bright  nights  and  skies  of  Italy — a  climate 
within  doors,  of  comfort  and  luxury,  unknown  under  brighter 
heavens. 


ISLE  OF  WIGHT— EYDE. 


"  Instead  of  parboiling  you  with  a  soiree  or  a  dinner,"  said 
a  sensible  and  kind  friend,  who  called  on  us  at  Ryde,  "  I  shall 
make  a  pic-nic  to  Netley."  And  on  a  bright,  breezy  morning 
of  June,  a  merry  party  of  some  twenty  of  the  inhabitants  of 
the  green  Isle  of  Wight  shot  away  from  the  long  pier,  in  one 
of  the  swift  boats  of  those  waters,  with  a  fair  \vind  for  South- 
ampton. 

Ryde  is  the  most  American-looking  town  I  have  seen 
abroad  ;  a  cluster  of  white  houses  and  summery  villas  on  the 
side  of  a  hill,  leaning  up  from  the  sea.  Geneva,  on  the  Sene- 
ca lake,  resembles  it.  It  is  a  place  of  baths,  boarding  houses, 
and  people  of  damaged  constitutions,  with  very  select  societ}'-, 
and  quiet  and  rather   primitive   habits.      The  climate  is  deli- 

ciously  soft,  and  the  sun  seems  alwava  to  shine  there. 

C-250] 


260  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


As  we  got  out  into  the  open  channel,  I  was  assisting  the 
skipper  to  tighten  his  bowline,  when  a  beautiful  ship,  in  the 
distance,  putting  about  on  a  fresh  tack,  caught  the  sun  full  on 
her  snowy  sails,  and  seemed  to  start^ike  an  apparition  from 
the  sea. 

"  She's  a  liner ^  sir  !"  said  the  bronzed  boatman,  suspending 
his  haul  to  give  her  a  look  of  involuntary  admiration. 

"  An  American  packet,  you  mean?" 

"  They're  the  prettiest  ships  afloat,  sir,"  he  continued,  "  and 
the  smartest  handled.  They're  out  to  New  York,  and  back 
again,  before  you  can  look  round,  a'most.  Ah,  I  see  her  flag 
now — stars  and  stripes.     Can  you  see  it,  sir  ?" 

"  Are  the  captains  Englishmen,  principally  ?"  I  asked. 

"  No,  sir  !  all  *  caUylators,'  sharp  as  a  needle  !" 

"  Thank  you,"  said  I ;  "  I  am  a  calculator  too  !" 

The  conversation  ceased,  and  I  thought  from  the  boatman's 
look,  that  he  had  more  respect  than  love  for  us.  The  cloud 
of  snowy  sail  traversed  the  breadth  of  the  channel  with  the 
speed  of  a  bird,  wheeled  again  upon  her  opposite  tack,  and 
soon  disappeared  from  view,  taking  with  her  the  dove  of  my 
imagination  to  return  with  an  olive-branch  from  home.  It 
must  be  a  cold  American  heart  whose  strings  are  not  swept 
by  that  bright  flag  in  a  foreign  land,  like  a  harp  with  the  im- 
passioned prelude  of  the  master.  ■ 

Cowes  was  soon  upon  our  lee,  vnth  her  fairy  fleet  of  yachta 
lying  at  anchor — Lord  Yarborough's  frigate-looking  craft 
asleep  amid  its  dependent  brood,  with  all  its  fine  tracery  of 
rigging  drawn  on  a  cloudless  sky,  the  picture  of  what  it  is, 
and  what  all  vessels  seem  to  me,  a  thing  for  pleasure  only. 
Darting  about  like  a  swallow  on  the  wing,  a  small,  gayly- 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  ^^^ 


painted  sloop-yacht,  as  graceful  and  slender  as  the  first  bow 
of  the  new  moon,  plaj^ed  off  the  roadstead  for  the  sole  pleas- 
ure of  motion,  careless  whither;  and  meantime  the  low  fringed 
shores  of  the  Southampton  side  grew  more  and  more  distinct, 
and  before  we  had  well  settled  upon  our  cushions,  the  old 
tower  of  the  Abbey  lay  sharp  over  the  bow. 

We  enjoyed  the  first  ramble  through  the  ruins  the  better, 
that  to  see  them  was  a  secondary  object.  The  first  was  to 
select  a  grassy  spot  for  our  table.  Threading  the  old  unroofed 
vaults  with  this  errand,  the  pause  of  involuntary  homage  ex- 
acted by  a  sudden  burst  upon  an  arch  or  a  fretted  window, 
was  natural  and  true;  and  for  those  who  are  disturbed  by  the 
formal  and  trite  enthusiasm  of  companions  who  admire  by  a 
prompter,  this  stalking-horse  of  another  pursuit  was  not  an 
indifferent  advantage. 

The  great  roof  over  the  principal  nave  of  the  Abbey  has 
fallen  in,  and  lies  in  rugged  and  picturesque  masses  within 
the  Gothic  shell — windows,  arches,  secret  staircases,  and 
gray  walls,  all  breaking  up  the  blue  sky  around,  but  leaving 
above,  for  a  smooth  and  eternal  roof,  an  oblong  and  ivy- 
fringed  segment  of  the  blue  plane  of  heaven.  It  seems  to 
rest  on  those  crumbling  corners  as  you  stand  within. 

We  selected  .a  rising  bank  under  the  shoulder  of  a  rock, 
grown  over  with  moss  and  ivy,  and  following  the  suggestion 
of  a  pretty  lover  of  the  picturesque,  the  shawls  and  cloaks, 
with  their  bright  colors,  were  thrown  over  the  nearest  frag- 
ments of  the  roof,  and  every  body  unbonneted  and  assisted  in 
the  arrangements.  An  old  woman  who  sold  apples  outside 
the  walls  was  employed  to  built  a  fire  for  our  teakettle  in  a 
niche  where,  doubtless,  in  its  holier  days,  had  stood  the  ef^gy 


262  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


of  a  saint;  and  at  the  pedestals  of  a  cluster  of  slender  columns 
our  attendants  displayed  upon  a  table  a  show  of  pasties  and 
bright  wines,  that,  if  there  be  monkish  spirits  who  walk  at 
Netley,  we  have  added  a  poignant  regret  to  their  purgatories, 
that  their  airy  stomachs  can  be  no  more  vitio  ciboque  gra- 
vati. 

We  were  doing  justice  to  a  pretty  shoulder  of  lamb,  with 
mint  sauce,  when  a  slender  youth,  who  had  been  w^andering 
around  with  a  portfolio,  took  up  an  artist's  position  in  the 
farther  corner  of  the  ruins,  and  began  to  sketch  the  scene.  I 
mentally  felicitated  him  on  the  accident  that  had  brought  him 
to  Netley  at  that  particular  moment,  for  a  prettier  picture  than 
that  before  him  an  artist  could  scarce  have  thrown  together. 
The  inequalities  of  the  floor  of  the  Abbey  provided  a  mossy 
table  for  every  two  or  three  of  the  gayly-dressed  ladies,  and 
there  they  reclined  in  small  and  graceful  groups,  their  white 
dresses  relieved  on  the  luxuriant  grass,  and  between  them, 
half-buried  in  moss,  the  sparkling  glasses  full  of  bright  wines, 
and  an  air  of  ease  and  grace  over  all,  which  could  belong  only 
to  the  two  extremes  of  Arcadian  simplicity,  or  its  high  bred 
imitation.  We  amused  ourselves  with  the  idea  of  appearing, 
some  six  months  after,  in  the  middle  ground  of  a  landscape, 
in  a  picturesque  annual ;  and  I  am  afraid  that  I  detected,  on 
the  first  suggestion  of  the  idea,  a  little  unconscious  attitudin- 
izing in  some  of  the  younger  members  of  the  party.  It  was 
proposed  that  the  artist  should  bo  invited  to  take  wine  with 
us ;  but  as  a  rosy-cheeked  page  donned  his  gold  hat  to  carry 
our  compliments,  the  busy  drauglilsman  was  joined  by  one 
or  two  ladies  not  quite  eo  attractive-looking  as  himself,  but 
evidently    of   liis    own    party,    and    our  messenger  was  re- 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  263 


called.  Sequitur — they  who  would  find  adventure  should 
travel  alone. 

The  monastic  ruins  of  England  derive  a  very  peculiar  and 
touching  beauty  from  the  bright  veil  of  ivy  which  almost  bu- 
ries them  from  the  sun.  This  constant  and  affectionate 
mourner  draws  from  the  moisture  of  the  climate  a  vividness 
and  luxuriance  which  is  found  in  no  other  land.  Hence  the 
remarkable  loveliness  of  Netley — a  quality  which  iinpresses  the 
visiters  to  this  spot,  far  more  than  the  melancholy  usually  in- 
spired by  decay. 

Our  gayety  shocked  some  of  the  sentimental  people  ram- 
blinsr  about  the  ruins,  for  it  is  diflBcult  for  those  who  have 
not  dined  to  sympathize  with  the  mirth  of  those  who  have. 
How  often  we  mistake  for  sadness  the  depression  of  an  empty 
stomach !  How  difierently  authors  and  travellers  w^ould 
w^rite,  if  they  commenced  the  day,  instead  of  ending  it,  with 
meats  and  wine  !  I  was  led  to  these  reflections  by  coming 
suddenly  upon  a  young  lady  and  her  companion  (possibly  her 
lover,)  in  climbing  a  ruined  staircase  sheathed  within  the  wall 
of  the  Abbey.  They  were  standing  at  one  of  the  windows, 
quite  unconscious  of  my  neighborhood,  and  looking  down  up- 
on the  gay  party  of  ladies  below,  who  w'ere  still  amid  the 
debris  of  the  feast  arranging  their  bonnets  for  a  walk. 

"  What  a  want  of  soul,"  said  the  lady,  "to  be  eating  and 
drinking  in  such  a  place  !" 

"  Some   people  have  710  souls,"  responded  the  gentleman. 

After  this  verdict,  I  thought  the  best  thing  I  could  do  was 
to  take  care  of  my  body^  and  I  very  carefully  backed  down 
the  old  staircase,  which  is  probably  more  hazardous  now  than 


;64  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


in  the  days  when  it  was  used  to  admit  damsels  and  haunches 
of  venison  to  the  reverend  fathers. 

I  reached  the  bottom  in  safety,  and  informed  my  friends 
that  they  had  no  souls,  but  they  manifested  the  usual  uncon- 
cern on  the  subject,  and  strolled  away  through  the  echoing 
arches,  in  search  of  new  points  of  view  and  fresh  wild-flowers. 
"  Commend  me  at  least,"  I  thought,  as  I  followed  on,  '•'  to 
those  whose  pulses  can  be  quickened  even  by  a  cold  pie 
and  a  glass  of  champagne.  Sadness  and  envy  are  sown  thickly 
enough  by  the  wayside." 

We  were  embarked  once  more  by  the  middle  of  the  after- 
noon, and  with  a  head  wind,  but  smooth  water  and  cool  tem- 
perature, beat  back  to  Ryde.  If  the  young  lady  and  her  lover 
have  forgiven  or  forgotten  us,  and  the  ghosts  of  Netley, 
frocked  or  petticoated,  have  taken  no  umbrage,  I  have  not 
done  amiss  in  marking  the  day  with  a  stone  ofthe  purest  white. 
How  much  more  sensible  is  a  party  like  this  in  the  open  air, 
and  at  healthy  hours,  than  the  untimely  and  ceremonious  civil- 
ities usually  paid  to  strangers.  If  the  world  would  mend  by 
moralising,  however,  we  should  have  had  a  Utopia  long  ago. 


COMPARISON    OF    THE    CLIMATE    OF    EUROPE 
AND  AMERICA. 


One  of  Hazlitt's  nail-driving  remarks  is  to  the  effect  that 
he  should  like  very  ivell  to  pass  the  whole  of  his  life  in  travel- 
ling, if  he  could  anywhere  borrow  another  life  to  spend  after- 
ward at  home.  How  far  action  is  necessary  to  happiness, 
and  how  far  repose — how  far  the  appetite  for  novelty  and  ad- 
venture will  drive,  and  how  far  the  attractions  of  home  and 
domestic  comfort  will  recall  us — in  short,  what  are  the  precise 
exactions  of  the  antagonist  principles  in  our  bosoms  of  curiosity 
and  sloth,  energy  and  sufferance,  hope  and  memory — are 
questions  which  each  one  must  settle  for  himself,  and  which 
none  can  settle  but  he  who  has  passed  his  life  in  the  eternal 
and   fruitless   search  after  the  happiest  place,  climate,  and 

station. 

12  r2651 


266  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

Contentment  depends  upon  many  things  within  our  own 
control,  but,  with  a  certain  education,,  it  depends  partly  upon 
things  beyond  it.  To  persons  delicately  constituted  or  deli- 
cately brought  up,  and  to  all  idle  persons,  the  principal  ingre- 
dient of  the  cup  of  enjoyment  is  climate;  and  Providence, 
that  consults  "  the  greatest  happiness  of  the  greatest  number," 
has  made  the  poor  and  the  roughly-nurtured  independent  of 
the  changes  of  the  wind.  Those  who  have  the  misfortune  to 
be  delicate  as  well  as  poor — those,  particularly,  for  whom 
there  is  no  hope  but  in  a  change  of  clime,  but  whom  pitiless 
poverty  compels  to  languish  in  vain  after  the  reviving  south, 
are  happily  few;  but  they  have  thus  much  more  than  their 
share  of  human  calamity. 

In  throwing  together  my  recollections  of  the  climates  with 
which  I  have  become  acquainted  in  other  lands,  I  am  aware 
that  there  is  a  greater  difference  of  opinion  on  this  subject 
than  on  most  others.  A  man  who  has  agreeable  society 
about  him  in  Montreal,  but  who  was  without  friends  in  Flo- 
rence, would  be  very  likely  to  bring  the  climate  in  for  its  share 
of  the  difference,  and  prefer  Canada  to  Italy ;  and  health  and 
circumstances  of  all  kinds  affect,  in  no  slight  degree,  our  sus- 
ceptibility to  skies  and  atmosphere.  But  it  is  sometimes  in- 
teresting to  know  the  impressions  of  others,  even  though  they 
agree  not  with  our  own  ;  and  I  will  only  say  of  mine  on  this 
subject,  that  they  are  so  far  likely  to  be  fair,  as  I  have  been 
blessed  with  the  same  perfect  health  in  all  countries,  and  have 
been  happy  alike  in  every  latitude  and  season. 

It  is  almost  a  matter  of  course  to  decry  the  climate  of  Eng- 
land. The  English  writers  themselves  talk  of  suicidal  moiitlis  ; 
and  it  is   the  only   country  where  part  of  the  livery  of  a 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL. 


267 


mounted  groom  is  his  master's  great-coat  strapped  about  hib 
waist.     It  is  certainly  a  damp  climate,  and  the  sun  shines  less 
in  England  than  in  most  other  countries.     But  to  persona  of 
full  liabit  this  moisture  in  the  air  is  extremely  agreeable ;  and 
the  high  condition  of  all  animals'in  England,  from  man  down- 
ward,  proves    its  healthfulness.     A  stranger  who  has  been 
accustomed  to  a  brighter  sky,  will,  at  first,  find  a  gloom  in 
the  gray  light  so  characteristic  of  an  English  atmosphere  ;  but 
this  soon  wears  off,  and  he  finds  a  compensation,  as  far  as  the 
eye  is  concerned,  in  the  exquisite  softness  of  the  verdure,  and 
the  deep  and  enduring  brightness  of  the  foliage.     The  effect 
of  this  moisture  on  the  skin  is  singularly  grateful.     The  pores 
become  accustomed  to  a  healthy  action,  which  is  unknown  in 
other  countries;  and  the  bloom  by  which   an  English  com- 
plexion is  known  all  over  the  world  is  the  index  of  an  activity 
in  this  important  part  of  the  system,  which,  when  first  expe- 
rienced, is  almost  like  a  new  sensation.      The  transition  to  a 
dry  climate,  such  as  ours,  deteriorates  the  condition  and  qual- 
ity of  the  skin,  and  produces  a  feeling,  if  I  may  so  express  it, 
like  that  of  being  glazed.     It  is  a  common  remark  in  England 
that  an  officer's  wife  and  daughters  follow  his  regiment  to  Ca- 
nada at  the  expense  of  their  complexions ;  and  it  is  a  well- 
knowm  fact  that  the  bloom  of  female  beauty  is,  in  our  coun- 
try, painfully  evanescent. 

The  climate  of  America  is,  in  many  points,  very  different 
from  that  of  France  and  Great  Britain.  In  the  middle  and 
northern  states,  it  is  a  dry,  invigorating,  and  bracing  climate, 
in  which  a  strong  man  may  do  more  work  than  in  almost  any 
other,  and  which  makes  continual  exercise,  or  occupation  of 
some  sort,  absolutely  necessary.     With  the  exception  of  the 


268  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


"  Indian  summer,"  and  here  and  there  a  day  scattered  through 
the  spring  and  the  hot  months,  there  is  no  weather  tempered 
so  finely,  that  one  would  think  of  passing  the  day  in  merely 
enjoying  it,  and  life  is  passed,  by  those  who  have  the  misfor- 
tune to  be  idle,  in  continual  and  active  dread  of  the  elements. 
The  cold  is  so  acrid,  and  the  heat  so  sultry,  and  the  changes 
from  one  to  the  other  are  so  violent,  that  no  enjoyment  can  be 
depended  upon  out-of-doors,  and  no  system  of  clothing  or  pro- 
tection is  good  for  a  day  together.  He  who  has  full  occupa- 
tion for  head  and  hand  (as  by  far  the  greatest  majority  of  our 
countrymen  have)  may  live  as  long  in  America  as  in  any  por- 
tion of  the  globe — vide  the  bills  of  mortality.  He  whose  spir- 
its lean  upon  the  temperature  of  the  wind,  or  whose  nerves 
require  a  genial  and  constant  atmosphere,  may  find  more  fa- 
vorable climes ;  and  the  habits  and  delicate  constitutions  of 
scholars  and  people  of  sedentary  pursuits  generally,  in  the 
United  States,  prove  the  truth  of  the  observation. 

The  habit  of  regular  exercise  in  the  open  air,  which  is  found 
to  be  so  salutary  in  England,  is  scarcely  possible  in  America. 
It  is  said,  and  said  truly,  of  the  first,  that  there  is  no  day  in 
the  year  when  a  lady  may  not  ride  comfortably  on  horseback 
— but  with  us,  the  extremes  of  heat  and  cold,  and  the  tem- 
pestuous character  of  our  snows  and  rains,  totally  forbid,  to 
a  delicate  person,  anything  like  regularity  in  exercise.  The 
consequence  is,  that  the  habit  rarely  exists,  and  the  high  and 
glowing  health  so  common  in  England,  and  consequent,  no 
doubt,  upon  the  equable  character  of  the  climate  in  some  mea- 
sure, is  with  us  sufficiently  rare  to  excite  remark.  "  Very 
English-looking,"  is  a  common  phrase,  and  means  very 
healthy-looking.     Still  our  people  last — and  though  I  should 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  ggg 

define  the  English  climate  as  the  one  in  which  the  human 
frame  is  in  the  highest  condition,  I  should  say  of  America, 
that  it  is  the  one  in  which  you  could  get  the  most  work  out 
of  it/ 

Atmosphere,  in  England  and  America,  is  the  first  of  the 
necessaries  of  life.  In  Italy,  it  is  the  first  of  its  luxuries.  We 
breathe  in  America,  and  walk  abroad,  without  thinking  of 
these  common  acts  but  as  a  means  of  arriving  at  happiness. 
In  Italy,  to  breathe  and  to  walk  abroad  are  themselves  happi- 
ness. Day  after  day — week  after  week — month  after  month 
— you  wake  with  the  breath  of  flowers  coming  in  at  your  open 
window,  and  a  sky  of  serene  and  unfathomable  blue,  and  morn- 
ings and  evenings  of  tranquil,  assured,  heavenly  purity  and 
beauty.  The  few  weeks  of  the  rainy  season  are  forgotten  in 
these  long  halcyon  months  of  sunshine.  No  one  can  have 
lived  in  Italy  a  year,  who  remembers  anything  but  the 
sapphire  sky  and  the  kindling  and  ever-seen  stars.  You  grow 
insensibly  to  associate  the  sunshine  and  the  moonlight  only 
with  the  fountain  you  have  lived  near,  or  the  columns  of  the 
temple  you  have  seen  from  your  window,  for  on  no  objects  in 
other  lands  have  you  seen  their  light  so  constant. 

I  scarce  know  how  to  convey,  in  language,  the  eflfect  of  the 
climate  of  Italy  on  mind  and  body.  Sitting  here,  indeed,  in 
the  latitude  of  thirty-nine,  in  the  middle  of  April,  by  a  warm 
fire,  and  with  a  cold  wind  whistling  at  the  window,  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  recall  it,  even  to  the  fancy.  I  do  not  know  whether 
life  is  prolonged,  but  it  is  infinitely  enriched  and  brightened, 
by  the  delicious  atmosphere  of  Italy.  You  rise  in  the  morn- 
ing, thanking  Heaven  for  life  and  liberty  to  go  abroad.  There 
is   a   sort  of  opiate  in  the   air,   which    makes  idleness,  that 


270        FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


would  be  the  vulture  of  Prometheus  in  America,  the  dove  of 
promise  in  Italy.  It  is  delicious  to  do  nothing — delicious  to 
stand  an  hour  looking  at  a  Savoyard  and  his  monkey — deli- 
cious to  sit  away  the  long,  silent  noon,  in  the  shade  of  a  col- 
umn, or  on  the  grass  of  a  fountain — delicious  to  be  with  a 
friend  without  the  interchange  of  an  idea — to  dabble  in  a  book 
or  look  into  the  cup  of  a  flower.  You  do  not  read,  for  you 
wish  to  enjoy  the  weather.  You  do  not  visit,  for  you  hate  to 
enter  a  door  while  the  weather  is  so  fine.  You  lie  down  un- 
willingly for  your  siesta  in  the  hot  noon,  for  you  fear  you  may 
oversleep  the  first  coolness  of  the  long  shadows  of  sunset. 
The  fancy,  meantime,  is  free,  and  seems  liberated  by  the 
same  languor  that  enervates  the  severer  faculties ;  and  nothing 
seems  fed  by  the  air  but  thoughts,  which  minister  to  en- 
joyment. 

The  climate  of  Greece  is  very  much  that  of  Italy.  The 
Mediterranean  is  all  beloved  of  the  sun.  Life  has  a  value 
there,  of  which  the  rheumatic,  shivering,  snow  breasting,  blue- 
devilled  idler  of  northern  regions  has  no  shadow,  even  in  a 
dream.  No  wonder  Dante  mourned  and  languished  for  it. 
No  wonder  at  the  sentiment  I  once  heard  from  distinguished 
lips — Fuori  (T Italia  tutto  e  esilio. 

This  appears  like  describing  a  Utopia  ;  but  it  is  what  Italy 
seemed  to  me.  I  have  expressed  myself  much  more  to  my 
mind,  however,  in  rhyme,  for  a  prose  essay  is,  at  best,  but  a 
cold  medium. 


STRATFOKD-ON-AVON. 


"  One-p'un'-five  outside,  sir,  two  pun'  in." 

It  was  a  bright,  culm   afternoon   in   September,  promising 

nothing  but  a  morrow  of  sunshine  and  autumn,  when  I  stepped 

in  at  the   "  White  Horse   Cellar,"  in  Piccadilly,  to  take  my 

place  in  the  Tantivy  coach  for  Stratford-on-Avon.    Preferring 

the  outside  of  the  coach,  at  least  by  as  much  as  the  difference 

in  the  prices,  and   accustomed  from  long  habit  to  pay  dearest 

for  that  which  most  pleased  me,  1  wrote  myself  down  for  the 

outside,  and   deposited  my  two  pounds  in  the  horny  palm  of 

the  old  ex  coachman,  retired  from  the  box,  and  playing  clerk 

in  this  dingy  den   of  parcels   and   portmanteaus.     Supposing 

my  business  concluded,  I  stood  a  minute  speculating  on  the 

weather-beaten,  cramp-handed  old  Jehu  before  me,  and  trying 

[271] 


272         FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PEACES. 


to  reconcile  his  ideas  of  "  retirement  from  office  "  with  those 
of  his  almost  next  door  neighbor,  the  hero  of  Strathfield- 
saye. 

I  had  mounted  the  first  stair  toward  dayhght,  wh^  a 
touch  on  the  shoulder  with  the  end  of  a  long  whip — a  techni- 
cal "  reminder,"  which  probably  came  easier  to  the  old  driver 
than  the  phrasing  of  a  sentence  to  a  "  gemman  " — recalled 
me  to  the  cellar. 

•*  Fifteen  shillin',  sir,"  said  he  laconically,  pointing  with  the 
same  expressive  exponent  of  his  profession  to  the  change  for 
my  outside  place,  which  I  had  left  lying  on  the  counter. 

"  You  are  at  least  as  honest  as  the  Duke,"  I  soliloquised  as 
I  pocketed  the  six  bright  and  substantial  half-crowns. 

I  was  at  the  "White  Horse  Cellar"  again  the  following 
morning  at  six,  promising  myself  with  great  sincerity  never  to 
rely  again  on  the  constancy  of  an  English  sky.  It  rained  in 
torrents.  The  four  inside  places  were  all  taken,  and  with 
twelve  fellow  outsides,  I  mounted  to  the  wet  seat,  and  besrsinof 

1  1  DO         O 

a  little  straw  by  way  of  cushion  from  the  ostler,  spread  my 
umbrella,  abandoned  my  knees  with  a  single  effort  of  mind  to 
the  drippings  of  the  driver's  weather-proof  upper  Benjamin, 
and  away  we  sped.  I  was  "  due  "  at  the  house  of  a  hospita- 
ble Catholic  Baronet,  a  hundred  and  two  miles  from  London, 
at  the  dinner  hour  of  that  day,  and  to  wait  till  it  had  done 
raining  in  England  is  to  expect  the  millennium. 

London  in  the  morning — I  mean  the  poor  man's  morning, 
daylight — is  to  me  matter  for  the  most  speculative  and  intense 
melancholy.  Hyde  park  in  the  sunshine  of  a  bright  afternoon, 
glittering  with  eqiiipnges,  and  gay  with  the  Aladdin  splen- 
dors of  rank  and  wealth,  is  a  scene  which  sends  the  mercurial 


TALKS  OVER. TRAVEL.  ^^^ 


qualities  of  the  blood  trippingly  through  the  veins.  But  Hyde 
park  at  daylight  seen  from  Piccadilly  through  fog  and  rain,  is 
perhaps,  of  all  contrasts,  to  one  who  has  frequented  it  in  ita 
bright  hours,  the  most  dispiriting  and  dreary.  To  remember 
that  behind  the  barricaded  and  wet  windows  of  Apsley  house 
sleeps  the  hero  of  Waterloo — that  under  these  crowded  and 
fog-wrapped  houses  lie,  in  their  dim  chambers  breathing  of  per- 
fume and  luxury,  the  high-born  and  nobly-moulded  creatures 
who  preserve  for  the  aristocracy  of  England  the  palm  of  the 
world's  beauty — to  remember  this,  and  a  thousand  other 
associations  linked  with  the  spot,  is  not  at  all  to  diminish,  but 
rather  to  deepen,  the  melancholy  of  the  picture.  Why  is  it 
that  the  deserted  stage  of  a  theatre,  the  echo  of  an  empty  ball 
room,  the  loneliness  of  a  frequented  promenade  in  untimely 
hours — any  scene,  in  short,  of  gayety  gone  by  but  remem- 
bered— oppresses  and  dissatisfies  the  heart !  One  would  think 
memory  should  re-brighten  and  re-populate  such  places.. 

The  wheels  hissed  through  the  shallow  pools  in  the  Maca- 
dam road,  the  regular  pattering  of  the  small  hoofs  in  the  wet 
carriage-tracks  maintained  its  quick  and  monotonous  beat  on 
the  ear;  the  silent  driver  kept  his  eye  on  the  traces,  and 
*'  reminded"  now  and  then  with  but  the  weight  of  his  slight 
lash  a  lagging  wheeler  or  leader,  and  the  complicated  but 
compact  machine  of  which  the  square  foot  that  I  occupied  had 
been  so  nicely  calculated,  sped  on  its  ten  miles  in  the  hour 
witlf  the  steadfastness  of  a  star  in  its  orbit,  and  as  indepen- 
dent of  clouds  and  rain. 

'*  J^st  ce  que  monsieur  parte  Francois  ^"  asked  at  the  end  of 
the  first  stage  my  right-hand  neighbor,  a  little  gentleman,  of 

12* 


274        FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


whom  I  had  hitherto  only  remarked  that  he  was  holding  on  to 
the  iron  railing  of  the  seat  with  great  tenacity. 

Having  admitted  in  an  evil  moment  that  I  had  been  in 
Prance,  I  was  first  distinctly  made  to  understand  that  my 
neighbor  was  on  his  way  to  Birmingham  purely  for  pleasure, 
and  without  the  most  distant  object  of  business — a  point  on 
which  he  insisted  so  long,  and  recurred  to  so  often,  that  he 
succeeded  at  last  in  persuading  me  that  he  was  doubtless  a 
candidate  for  the  French  clerkship  of  some  exporter  of  but- 
tons. After  listening  to  an  amusing  dissertation  on  the  rash- 
ness of  committing  one's  life  to  an  English  stage-coach  with 
scarce  room  enough  for  the  perch  of  a  parrot,  and  a  velocity 
so  diablement  dcmgereuXj  I  tired  of  my  Frenchman  ;  and,  since 
I  could  not  have  my  own  thoughts  in  peace,  opened  a  conver- 
sation with  a  straw-bonnet  and  shawl  on  my  left — the  property, 
I  soon  discovered,  of  a  very  smart  lady's  maid,  very  indignant 
at  having  been  made  to  change  places  with  Master  George, 
who,  with  his  mother  and  her  mistress,  were  dry  and  comfort- 
able inside.  She  "  would  not  have  minded  the  outside  place," 
she  said,  "  for  there  were  sometimes  very  agreeable  gentlemen 
on  the  outside,  very! — but  she  had  been  promised  to  go 
inside,  and  had  dressed  accordingly ;  and  it  was  very 
provoking  to  spoil  a  nice  new  shawl  and  best  bonnet,  just  be* 
cause  a  great  school-boy,  that  had  nothing  on  that  would 
damage,  chose  not  to  ride  in  the  rain." 

"  Very  provoking,  indeed  1"  I  responded,  letting  in  the  ^  rain 
upon  myself  unconsciously,  in  extending  my  umbrella  forward 
so  as  to  protect  her  on  the  side  of  the  wind. 

We  should  have  gone  down  in  the  carriage,  sir,"  she  con- 
tinued, edging  a  little  closer  to  get  the  full  advantage  of  my 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  275 


umbrella ;  "  but  John  the  coachman  has  got  the  hinfluenzy^ 
and  my  missis  wo'n't  be  driven  by  no  other  coachman  ;  she's 
as  obstinate  as  a  mule,  sir.  And  that  isn't  all  I  could  tell,  sir; 
but  I  scorns  to  hurt  the  character  of  one  of  my  own  sex." 
And  the  pretty  abigalLpursed  up  her  red  lips,  and  looked  de- 
termined not  to  destroy  her  mistress's  character — unless  par- 
ticularly requested. 

I  detest  what  may  be  called  a  proper  road-book — even 
would  it  be  less  absurd  than  it  is  to  write  one  on  a  country  so 
well  conned  as  England. 

I  shall  say  nothing,  therefore,  of  Mario  w,  which  looked  the 
picture  of  rural  loveliness  though  seen  through  fog,  nor  of 
Oxford,  of  which  all  I  remember  is  that  I  dined  there  with 
my  teeth  chattering,  and  my  knees  saturated  with  rain.  All 
England  is  lovely  to  the  wild  eye  of  an  American  unused  to 
high  cultivation ;  and  though  my  enthusiasm  was  somewhat 
damp,  I  arrived  at  the  bridge  over  the  Avon,  blessing  Eng- 
land sufficiently  for  its  beauty,  and  much  more  for  the  speed 
of  its  coaches. 

The  Avon,  above  and  below  the  bridge,  ran  brightly  along 
between  low  banks,  half  sward,  half  meadow  ;  and  on  the 
other  side  lay  the  native  town  of  the  immortal  wool-comber—^ 
a  gay  cheerful-looking  village,  narrowing  in  the  centre  to  a 
closely-built  street,  across  which  swung,  broad  and  fair,  the 
sign  of  the  "  Eed  horse."  More  ambitious  hotels  lay  beyond, 
and  broader  streets ;  but  while  Washington  Irving  is  remem- 
bered (and  that  will  be  while  the  language  lasts,)  the  quiet 
inn  in  which  the  great  Geoffrey  thought  and  wrote  of  Shak- 
spere  will  be  the  altar  of  the  pilgrim's  devotions. 

My  baggage  was  set  down,  the  coachman  and  guard  tipped 


276        FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


their  hats  for  a  shilling,  and,  chilled  to  the  bone,  I  raised  my 
hat  instinctively  to  the  courtesy  of  a  slender  gentlewoman  in 
black,  who,  by  the  keys  at  her  girdle  should  be  the  landlady. 
Having  expected  to  see  a  rosy  little  Mrs.  Boniface,  with  a 
brown  pinafore  and  worsted  mittens,  I  made  up  my  mind  at 
once  that  the  inn  had  changed  mistresses.  On  the  right  of 
the  old-fashioned  entrance  blazed  cheerily  the  kitchen  fire,  and 
with  my  enthusiasm  rather  dashed  by  my  disappointment,  I 
stepped  in  to  make  friends  with  the  cook,  and  get  a  little 
warmth  and  information. 

"  So  your  old  mistress  is  dead,  Mrs.  Cook,"  said  I  rubbing 
ray  hands  with  great  satisfaction  between  the  fire  and  a  well-^ 
roasted  chicken. 

"  Lauk,  sir,  no,  she  isn't !"  answered  the  rosy  lass,  pointing 
with  a  dfedging-box  to  the  same  respectable  lady  in  black  who 
was  just  entering  to  look  after  me.    - 

"  I  beg  pardon,  sir,"  she  said,  dropping  a  courtesy  ;  "  but 
are  you  the  gentleman  expected  by  Sir  Charles ?" 

"  Yes,  madam.  And  can  you  tell  me  anything  of  your  pre- 
decessor who  had  the  inn  in  the  days  of  Washington  Irving  ?" 

She  dropped  another  courtesy  and  drew  up  her  thin  person 
to  its  full  height,  while  a  smile  of  gratified  vanity  stole  out  at 
the  corners  of  her  mouth. 

"  The  carriage  has  been  w^dting  some  time  for  you,  sir," 
she  said,  with  a  softer  tone  than  that  in  which  she  had  hitherto 

addressed  me  ;  "  and  you  will  hardly  be  at  C in  time 

for  dinner.  You  will  be  coming  over  to-morrow  or  the  day 
after,  perhaps,  sir ;  and  then,  if  you  would  honor  ray  little 
room  by  taking  a  cup  of  tea  with  ine,  I  should  be  pleased  to 
tell  you  all  about  it,  sir." 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  277 


I  remembered  a  promise  I  had  nearly  forgotten,  tl;at  I 
would  reserve  my  visit  to  Stratford  till  I  could  be  accompa- 
nied by  Miss  Jane  Porter,  whom  I  was  to  have  the  honor  of 
meeting  at  my  place  of  destination;  and  promising  an  early 
acceptance  of  the  kind  landlady's  invitation,  I  hurried  on  to 
my  appointment  over  the  fertile  hills  of  Warwickshire. 

I  was  established  in  one  of  those  old  Elizabethan  country- 
houses,  which,  with  their  vast  parks,  their  self-sufficing  re- 
sources of  subsistence  and  company,  and  the  absolute  defer- 
ence shown  on  all  sides  to  the  lord  of  the  manor,  give  one  the 
impression  rather  of  a  little  kingdom  with  a  castle  in  its  heart, 
than  of  an  abode  for  a  gentleman  subject.  The  house  itself, 
(called,  like  most  houses  of  this  size  and  consequence  in  "War- 
wickshire, a  "  Court,")  was  a  Gothic,  half-castellated  square, 
with  four  round  towers,  and  innumerable  embrasures  and 
windows ;  two  wings  in  front,  probably  more  modern  than 
the  body  of  the  house,  and  again  two  long  wings  extending  to 
the  rear,  at  right  angles,  and  enclosing  a  flowery  and  formal 
parterre.  There  had  been  a  trench  about  it,  now  filled  up, 
and  at  a  short  distance  from  the  house  stood  a  polyangular 
and  massive  structure,  well  calculated  for  defence,  and  intend- 
ed as  a  strong-hold  for  the  retreat  of  the  family  and  tenants  in 
more  troubled  times.  One  of  these  rear  wings  enclosed  a  ca- 
tholic chapel,  for  the  worship  of  the  Baronet  and  those  of  his 
tenants  who  professed  the  same  faith.;  while  on  the  nor- 
thern side,  between  the  house  and  the  garden,  stood  a  large 
protestant  stone  church,  with  a  turret  and  spire,  both  chapel 
and  church,  with  their  clergyman  and  priest,  dependant  on  the 
estate,  and  equally  favored  by  the  liberal  and  high-minded  ba- 
ronet.    The  tenantry  formed  two  considerable  congregations. 


278  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

and  lived  and  worshipped  side  by  side,  with  the  most  perfect 
harmony — an  instance  of  real  Christianity,  in  my  opinion, 
which  the  angels  of  heaven  might  come  down  to  see.  A  lovely 
rural  graveyard  for  the  lord  and  tenants,  and  a  secluded  lake 
below  the  garden,  in  which  hundreds  of  wild  ducks  swam  and 

screamed  unmolested,  completed  the  outward  features  of  C 

court. 

There  are  noble  houses  in  England,  with  a  door  communi- 
cating from  the  dining-room  to  the  stables,  that  the  master  and 
his  friends  may  see  their  favorites,  after  dinner,  without  expo- 
sure to  the  weather.  In  the  place  of  this  rather  bizarre  luxury, 

the  oak-pannelled  and  spacious  dining-hall  of  C is  on  a 

level  with  the  organ  loft  of  the  chapel,  and  when  the  cloth  is 
removed,  the  large  door  between  is  thrown  open,  and  the  noble 
instrument  pours  the  rich  and  thrilling  music  of  vespere 
through  the  rooms.  When  the  service  is  concluded,  and  the 
lights  on  the  altar  extinguished,  the  blind  organist  (an  accom- 
plished musician,  and  a  tenant  on  the  estate)  continues  his 
voluntaries  in  the  dark  until  the  hall-door  informs  him  of  the 
retreat  of  the  company  to  the  drawing-room.  There  is  not 
only  refinement  and  luxury  in  this  beautiful  arrangement,  but 
food  for  the  soul  and  heart. 

1  chose  my  room  from  among  the  endless  vacant  but  equal- 
ly luxurious  chambers  of  the  rambling  old  fiouse ;  my  prefer- 
ence solely  directed  by  the  portrait  of  a  nun,  one  of  the  family 
in  ages  gone  by — a  picture  full  of  n)elancholy  beauty,  which 
hung  opposite  the  window.  The  face  was  distinguished  by 
all  that  in  England  marks  the  gentlewoman  of  ancient  and 
pure  descent;  and  while  it  was  a  woman  with  the  more  tender 
qualities  of  her  sex  breathing  through  her  features,  it  was  still 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  gyg 


a  lofty  and  sainted  sister,  tr«e  to  her  cross,  and  sincere  in  iier 
vows  and  seclusion.  It  was  the  work  of  a  master,  probably 
Vandyk,  and  a  picture  in  which  the  most  solitary  man  would 
^nd  company  and  communion.  On  the  other  walls,  and  in 
most  of  the  other  rooms  and  corridors,  were  distributed  por- 
traits of  the  gentlemen  and  soldiers  of  the  family,  most  of 
them  bearing  some  resemblance  to  the  nun,  but  diSering,  as 
brothers  in  those  wild  times  may  be  supposed  to  have  differed 
from  the  gentle  creatures  of  the  same  blood,  nursed  in  the 
privacy  of  peace.* 


VISIT    TO    STRATFORD-ON-AVON~SHAKSPERE 


One  of  the  first  visits  in  the  neighborhood  was  naturally  to 
Stratford-on-AvoD.  It  lay  some  ten  miles  south  of  us,  and  I 
drove  down,  with  the  distinguished  literary  friend  I  have  be- 
fore mentioned,  in  the  carriage  of  our  kind  host,  securing,  by 
the  presence  of  his  servants  and  equipage,  a  degree  of  respect 
and  attention  which  would  not  have  been  accorded  to  us  in 
our  simple  character  of  travellers.  The  prim  mistress  of  the 
"  Red  Horse,"  in  her  close  black  bonnet  and  widow's  weeds, 
received  us  at  the  door  with  a  deeper  courtesy  than  usual,  and 
a  smile  of  less  wintry  formality;  and  proposing  to  dine  at  the 
inn,  and  "  suck  the  brain"  of  the  hostess  more  at  our  leisure, 
we  started  immediately  for  the  house  of  the  wool-comber — 
the  birthplace  of  Shakspcre. 
[280] 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  ggj 

Stratford  should  have  been  forbidden  ground  to  builders, 
masons,  shopkeepers,  and  generally  to  all  people  of  thrift  and 
whitewash.  It  is  now  rather  a  smart  town,  with  gay  calicoes, 
shawls  of  the  last  pattern,  hardware,  and  millinery,  exhibited 
in  all  their  splendor  down  the  widened  and  newer  streets ; — 
and  though  here  and  there  remains  a  gloomy  and  inconvenient 
abode,  which  looks  as  if  Shakspere  might  have  taken  shelter 
under  its  eaves,  the  gayer  features  of  the  town  have  the  best 
of  it,  and  flaunt  their  gaudy  and  unrespected  newness  in  the 
very  windows  of  that  immortal  birthplace.  I  stepped  into  a 
shop  to  inquire  the  way  to  it. 

"  Shiksper''s  'ouse,  sir  ?  Yes,  sir  !"  said  a  dapper  clerk, 
with  his  hair  astonished  into  the  most  impossible  directions  by 
force  of  brushing;  "  keep  to  the  right,  sir!  Shiksper  lived  in 
the  wite  'ouse,  sir — the  'ouse,  you  see  beyond,  with  the  windy 
swung  up,  sir." 

A  low,  old-fashioned  house,  with  a  window  suspended  on 
a  hinge,  newly  whitewashed  and  scrubbed,  stood  a  little  up 
the  street.  A  sign  over  the  door  informed  us  in  an  inflated 
paragraph,  that  the  immortal  Will  Shakspere  was  born  under 
this  roof,  and  that  an  old  woman  within  would  show  it  to  us 
for  a  consideration.  It  had  been  used  until  very  lately,  1 
had  been  told,  for  a  butcher's  shop. 

A  "  garrulous  old  lady"  met  us  at  the  bottom  of  the  narrow 
stair  leading  to  the  second  floor,  and  began — not  to  say  any- 
thing of  Shakspere — but  to  show  us  the  names  of  Byron, 
Moore,  Rogers,  &c.,  written  among  thousands  of  others,  on 
the  w^all  1  She  had  worn  out  Shakspere  !  She  had  told  that 
stoiy  till  she  w^as  tired  of  it !  or  (what,  perhaps,  is  more  pro- 
bable) most  people  who  go  there  fall  to  reading  the  names  of 


282        FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


the  visiters  so  industriously,  that  she  has  grown  to  think  some 
of  Shakspere's  pilgrims  greater  than  Shakspeare. 

**  Was  this  old  oaken  chest  here  in  the  days  of  Shakspere, 
madam  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  here's  the  name  of  Byron,  with  a  capital 
B.     Here's  a  curiosity,  sir." 

"  And  this  «mall  wooden  box  ?" 

"  Made  of  Shakspere's  mulberry,  sir.  I  had  sich  a  time 
about  that  box,  sir.  Two  young  gemmen  w^ere  here  the  other 
day — just  run  up,  while  the  coach  was  changing  horses,  to 
see  the  house.  As  soon  as  they  were  gone  I  misses  my  box. 
Off  scuds  my  son  to  the  '  Red  Horse,'  and  there  they  sat  on 
the  top  looking  as  inuocent  as  may  be.  *  Stop  the  coach,' 
says  my  son.  *  What  do  you  want  ?'  says  the  driver.  *  My 
mother's  mulberry  box — Shakspere's  mulberry  box  ! — One  of 
them  'ere  young  men's  got  it  in  his  pocket.'  And  true  enough, 
sir,  one  on  'em  had  the  imperence  to  take  it  out  of  his  pocket, 
and  fling  it  into  my  son's  face  :  and  you  know  the  coach  never 
stops  a  minnit  for  nothing,  or  he'd  a'  smarted  for  it." 

Spirit  of  Shakspere  !  dost  thou  not  sometimes  walk  alone 
in  this  humble  chamber  !  Must  one's  inmost  soul  be  fretted 
and  frighted  always  from  its  devotion  by  an  abominable  old 
woman?  Why  should  not  such  lucrative  occupations  be 
given  in  charity  to  the  deaf  and  dumb  ?  The  pointing  of  a 
finger  were  enough  in  such  spots  of  earth  ! 

I  sat  down  in  despair  to  look  over  the  book  of  visiters, 
trusting  that  she  would  tire  of  my  inattention.  As  it  was  no 
use  to  point  out  names  to  those  who  would  not  look,  however, 
fihe  commenced  a  long  story  of  an  American  who  had  lately 
taken  the  wliim  to  sleep  in  Shakspere's  birthplace.     She  had 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  283 

shaken  him  down  a  bed  on  the  floor,  and  he  had  passed  the 
night  there.  It  seemed  to  bother  her  to  comprehend  why  two- 
thirds  of  her  visiters  should  be  Americans — a  circumstance 
that  was  abundantly  proved  by  the  books. 

It  was  only  when  we  were  fairly  in  the  street,  that  I  began 
to  realize  that  I  had  seen  one  of  the  most  glorious  altars  of 
memory — that  deathless  Will  Shakspere,  the  mortal,  who 
was,  perhaps  (not  to  speak  profanely)  next  to  his  Maker,  in 
the  divine  faculty  of  creation,  first  saw  the  light  through  the 
low  lattice  on  which  we  turned  back  to  look. 

The  single  window  of  the  room  in  which  Scott  died  at  Ab- 
botsford,  and  this  in  the  birth-chamber  of  Shakspere,  have 
seemed  to  me  almost  marked  with  the  .touch  of  the  fire  of 
those  great  souls — for  I  think  w^e  have  an  instinct  which  tells 
us  on  the  spot  where  mighty  spirits  have  come  or  gone,  that 
they  came  and  went  with  the  light  of  heaven. 

We  walked  down  the  street  to  see  the  house  where  Shaks- 
pere lived  on  his  return  to  Stratford.  It  stands  at  the  corner 
of  a  lane,  not  far  from  the  church  where  he  was  buried,  and  is 
a  newish  un-Shaksperian  looking  place — no  doubt,  if  it  be  in- 
deed the  same  house,  most  profanely  and  considerably  altered. 
The  present  proprietor  or  occupant  of  the  house  or  site  took 
upon  himself  some  time  since  the  odium  of  cutting  down  the 
famous  mulberry  tree  planted  by  the  poet's  hand  in  the 
garden. 

I  forgot  to  mention  in  the  beginning  of  these  notes  that 
two  or  three  miles  before  coming  to  Stratford  we  passed 
through  Shottery,  \vhere  Anne  Hathawny  lived.  A  nephew  of 
the  excellent  baronet  whose  guests  we  were  occupies  the 
house.     I  looked  up  and  down  the  green  lanes  about  it,  and 


284  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


glanced  my  eye  round  upon  the  hills  over  which  the  sun  ha* 
continued  to  set  and  the  moon  to  ride  in  her  love  inspiring 
beauty  ever  since.  There  were  doubtless  outlines  in  the  land- 
scape which  had  been  followed  by  the  eye  of  Shakespear 
when  coming,  a  trembling  lover,  to  Shottery — doubtless,  teints 
in  the  sky,  crops  on  the  fields,  smoke-wreaths  from  the  old 
homesteads  on  the  high  hill-sides  which  are  little  altered  now. 
How  daringly  imagination  plucks  back  the  past  in  such  places  ! 
How  boldly  we  ask  of  fancy  and  probability  the  thousand 
questions  we  would  put,  if  we  might,  to  the  magic  mirror  of 
Agrippa  ?  Did  that  great  mortal  love  timidly,  like  ourselves  ? 
Was  the  passionate  outpouring  of  his  heart  simple,  and  suited 
to  the  humble  condition  of  Anne  Hathaway,  or  was  it  the 
first  fiery  coinage  of  Eomeo  and  Othello  ?  Did  she  know  the 
immortal  honor  and  light  poured  upon  woman  by  the  love  of  ge- 
nius ?  Did  she  know  how  this  common  and  oftenest  terrestrial 
passion  becomes  fused  in  the  poet's  bosom  with  celestial  fire, 
and,  in  its  wondrous  elevation  <and  purity,  ascends  lambently 
and  musically  to  the  very  stars  ?  Did  she  coy  it  with  him  ?  Was 
she  a  woman  to  him,  as  commoner  mortals  find  woman — capri- 
cious, tender,  cruel,  intoxicating,  cold — everything  by  changes 
impossible  to  calculate  or  foresee  1  Did  he  walk  home  to 
Stratford,  sometimes,  despairing,  in  perfect  sick  heartedness,  of 
her  aflfection,  and  was  he  recalled  by  a  message  or  a  lover's 
instinct  to  find  her  weeping  and  passionately  repentant? 

How  natural  it  is  by  such  questions  and  speculations  to  be- 
tray our  innate  desire  to  bring  the  lofty  spirits  of  our  common 
mould  to  our  own  inward  level — to  seek  analogies  between  ow 
affections,  passions,  appetites,  and  tlicirs — to  wish  they  might 
have  been  no  more  exalted,  no  more  fervent,  no  more  worthy  of 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  ggf 


the  adorablo  love  of  woman  than  ourselves  !  The  same  temper 
that  prompts  the  depreciation,  the  envy,  the  hatred,  exercised 
toward  the  poet  in  his  lifetime,  mingles,  not  inconsiderably,  in 
the  researches  so  industriously  prosecuted  after  his  death  into 
his  youth  and  history.  To  be  admired  in  this  world,  and  much 
more  to  be  beloved  for  higher  qualities  than  his  fellow-men, 
insures  to  genms  not  only  to  ha  persecuted  in  life,  but  to  be  fer- 
reted out  with  all  his  frailties  and  imperfections  from  the  grave. 
The  church  in  which  Shakspere  is  buried  stands  near  the 
banks  of  the  Avon,  and  is  a  most  picturesque  and  proper  place 
of  repose  for  his  ashes.  An  avenue  of  small  trees  and  vines,  inge- 
niously overlaced,  extends  from  the  street  to  the  principal  door, 
and  the  interior  is  Vrokcn  up  into  that  confused  and  accidental 
medley  of  tombs,  pews,  cross-hghts,  and  pillars,  for  which  the 
old  churches  of  England  are  remarkable.  The  tomb  and 
effigy  of  the  great  poet  lie  in  an  inner  chapel,  and  are  as  de- 
scribed in  every  traveller's  book.  I  will  not  take  up  room 
with  the  repetition. 

It  gives  one  an  odd  feeling  to  see  the  tomb  of  his  wife  and 
daughter  beside  him.  One  does  not  realize  before,  that  Shak- 
spere had  w^ife,  children,  kinsmen,  like  other  men — that  there 
were  those  who  had  a  right  to  lie  in  the  same  tomb ;  to  whom 
he  owed  the  charities  of  life ;  whom  he  may  have  benefited 
or  offended ;  who  may  have  influenced  materially  his  destiny, 
or  he  theirs  ;  who  were  the  inheritors  of  his  household  goods, 
his  w^ardrobe,  his  books — people  who  looked  on  him — on  Shak- 
spere— as  a  landholder,  a  renter  of  a  pew,  a  townsman  ;  a  re- 
lative, in  short,  who  fead  claims  upon  them,  not  for  the  eter- 
nariiomage  due  to  celestial  inspiration,  but  for  the  charity  of 
shelter  and  bread  had  he  been  poor,  for  kindness  and  ministry 


286        FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


had  he  been  sick,  for  burial  and  the  tears  of  natural  affection 
^vhen  he  died.  It  is  painful  and  embarrassing  to  the  mind  to 
go  to  Stratford — to  reconcile  the  immortality  and  the  incom- 
prehensible power  of  genius  like  Shakspere's,  with  the  space, 
tenement,  and  circumstance  of  a  man  !  The  poet  should  be 
like  the  sea-bird,  seen  only  on  the  wing — his  birth,  his  slum- 
ber, and  his  death,  mysteries  alike. 

I  had  stipulated  with  the  hostess  that  my  baggage  should 
be  put  into  the  chamber  occupied  by  Washington  Irving.  I 
was  shown  into  it  to  dress  for  dinner — a  small  neat  room,  a 
perfect  specimen,  in  short,  of  an  English  bedroom,  with  snow- 
\vhite  curtains,  a  looking-glass  the  size  of  the  face,  a  well-pol- 
ished grate  and  poker,  a  well-fitted  carpet,  and  as  much  light 
as  heaven  permits  to  the  climate. 

OQr  dinner  for  two  w^as  served  in  a  neat  parlnr  on  the  same 
floor — an  English  inn  dinner — simple,  neat  and  comfortable, 
in  the  sense  of  that  word  unknown  in  other  countries.  There 
was  Just  fire  enough  in  the  grate,  just  enough  for  two  in  the 
different  dishes,  a  servant  who  was  just  enough  in  the  room, 
a.nd  just  civil  enough — in  short,  it  was,  like  everything  else  in 
\h2ki  country  of  adaptation  and  fitness /]\iQt  what  was  ordered 
and  wanted,  and  no  more. 

The  evening  tDrned  out  stormy,  and  the  rain  pattered  mer- 
rily against  the  windows.  The  shutters  were  closed,  the  fire 
blazed  up  with  new  brightness,  the  well  fitted  wax  lights  were 
set  on  the  table ;  and  when  the  dishes  were  removed,  we  re- 
placed the  wine  with  a  tea  tray,  and  Miss  Porter  sent  for  the 
hostess  to  give  us  her  company  and  a  little  gossip  over  our 
cups. 

Nothing  could  be  more  nicely  understood  and  defined  than 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  287 


the  manner  of  English  hostesses  generally  in  such  situations, 
and  of  Mrs.  Gardiner  particularly  in  this.  Respectful  without 
servility,  perfectly  sure  of  the  propriety  of  her  own  manner 
and  mode  of  expression,  yet  preserving  in  every  look  and 
word  the  proper  distinction  between  herself  and  her  guests, 
she  insured  from  them  that  kindness  and  ease  of  communica- 
tion which  would  make  a  long  evening  of  social  conversation 
pass,  not  only  without  embarrassment  on  either  side,  but  with 
mutual  pleasure  and  gratification. 

"  I  have  brought  up,  mem,"  she  said,  producing  a  well-pol- 
ished poker  from  under  her  black  apron,  before  she  took  the 
chair  set  for  her  at  the  table — "  I  have  brought  up  a  relic  for 
you  to  see,  that  no  money  would  buy  from  me." 

She  turned  it  over  in  my  hand,  and  I  read  on  one  of  the 
flat  sides  at  the  bottom — "  geoffrey  crayon's  sceptre." 

"  Do  you  remember  Mr.  Irving,"  asked  my  friend,  "  or  have 
you  supposed,  since  reading  his  sketch  of  Stratford-on-Avon 
that  the  gentleman  in  number  three  might  be  the  person  ?" 

The  hostess  drew  up  her  thin  figure,  and  the  expression  of 
a  person  about  to  compliment  herself  stole  into  the  corners  of 
her  mouth. 

"  Why,  you  see,  mem,  I  am  very  much  in  the  habit  of  ob- 
serving my  guests,  and  I  think  I  may  say  I  knows  a  superior 
gentleman  when  I  sees  him.  If  you  remember,  mem,"  (and 
she  took  down  from  the  mantle-piece  a  much-worn  copy  of 
the  Sketch-Bookj)  "  Geofifrey  Crayon  tells  the  circumstance  of 
my  stepping  in  when  it  was  getting  late,  and  asking  if  he  had 
rung.  I  knows  it  by  that,  and  then  the  gentleman  I  mean  was 
an  American,  and  I  think,  mem,  besides,"  (and  she  hesitated  a 
little,  as  if  she  was  about  to  advance  an  original  and  rather 


5^88  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


venturesome  opinion) — "  I  think  I  can  see  that  gentleman's 
likeness  all  through  this  book." 

A  truer  remark  or  a  more  just  criticism  was  perhaps  never 
made  on  the  Sketch-Book.  We  smiled,  and  Mrs.  Gardiner 
proceeded  : — 

"  I  was  in  and  out  of  the  coffee  room  the  night  he  arrived, 
mem,  and  I  sees  directly  by  his  modest  ways  and  timid  look 
that  he  was  a  gentleman,  and  not  fit  company  for  the  other 
travellers.  They  were  all  young  men,  sir,  and  business  trav- 
ellers, and  you  know,  mem,  ignorance  takes  the  advantage  of 
modest  merit,  and  after  their  dinner  they  were  very  noisy  and 
rude.  So,  I  says  to  Sarah,  the  chambermaid,  says  I,  '  That 
nice  gentleman  can't  get  near  the  fire,  and  you  go  and  light  a 
fire  in  number  three,  and  he  shall  sit  alone,  and  it  shan't  cost 
him  nothing,  for  I  like  the  look  on  him.'  Well,  mem,  he 
seemed  pleased  to  be  alone,  and  after  his  tea,  he  puts  his  legs 
up  over  the  grate,  and  there  he  sits  with  the  poker  in  his  hand 
till  ten  o'clock.  The  other  travellers  went  to  bed,  and  at  last 
the  house  was  as  still  as  midnight,  all  but  a  poke  in  the  grate 
now  and  then  in  number  three,  and  every  time  I  heard  it,  I 
jumped  up  and  lit  a  bed-candle,  for  I  was  getting  very  sleepy, 
and  I  hoped  he  was  getting  up  to  ring  for  a  light.  Well, 
mem,  I  nodded  and  nodded,  and  still  no  ring  at  the  bell.  At 
last  I  says  to  Sarah,  says  I,  '  Go  into  number  three,  and  upset 
something,  for  I  am  sure  that  gentleman  has  fallen  asleep.' — 

*  La,  ma'am,'  says  Sarah,  *  I  don't  dare.'     *  Well,  then,'  says  I, 

*  I'll  go.'  So  I  opens  the  door,  and  I  says,  '  If  you  please, 
sir,  did  you  ring  ?' — little  thinking  that  question  would  ever  be 
written  down  in  Buch  a  beautiful  book,  mem.  He  sat  with 
his  feet  on  the  fender  poking  the  fire,  and  a  smile  on  his  face, 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL. 


289 


I 


as  if  some  pleasant  thought  was  in  his  mind.  '  No,  ma'am,' 
says  he,  *  I  did  not/  I  shuts  the  door,  and  sits  down  again, 
for  I  hadn't  the  heart  to  tell  him  that  it  was  late,  for  he  ivas  a 
gentleman  not  to  speak  rudely  to,  mem.  "Well,  it  was  past 
twelve  o'clock  when  the  bell  did  ring.  'There,'  says  I  to 
Sarah,  '  thank  Heaven  he  has  done  thinking,  and  we  can  go  to 
bed.'  So  heivalked  up  stairs  with  his  light,  and  the  next 
morning  he  was  up  early  and  off  to  the  Shakspere  house,  and 
he  brings  me  home  a  box  of  the  mulberry  tree,  and  asks  me 
if  I  thought  it  was  genuine,  and  said  it  was  for  his  mother  in 
America.  And  I  loved  him  still  more  for  that,  and  I'm  sure 
I  prayed  she  might  live  to  see  him  return. 

"  I  believe  she  did,  Mrs.  Gardiner ;  but  how  soon  after  did 
you  set  aside  the  poker  ?" 

"  Why,  sir,  you  see  there's  a  Mr.  Vincent  that  comes  here 
sometimes,  and  he  says  to  me  one  day — *  So,  Mrs.  Gardiner, 
you're  finely  immortalized.  Read  that.'  So  the  minnit  I  read 
it,  I  remembered  who  it  was,  and  all  about  it,  and  I  runs  and 
gets  the  number  three  poker,  and  locks  it  up  safe  and  sound, 
and  by-and  by  I  sends  it  to  Brummagem,  and  has  his  name 
engraved  on  it,  and  here  you  see  it,  sir — and  I  wouldn't  take 
no  money  for  it." 

I  had  never  the  honor  to  meet  or  know  Mr.  Irving,  and  I 
evidently  lost  ground  with  the  hostess  of  the  "  Eed  Horse " 
for  that  misfortune.  I  delighted  her,  however,  with  the 
account  which  I  had  seen  in  a  late  newspaper,  of  his  having 
shot  a  buffalo  in  the  prairies  of  the  west ;  and  she  soon  cour- 
tesied  herself  out,  and  left  me  to  the  delightful  society  of  the 
distinguished  lady  who  had  accompanied  me.  Among  all  my 
many  loiterings  in  many  lands,  I  remember  none  more  Intel- 


290  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  TLACES. 

lectually  pure  and  gratifying,  than  this  at  Stratford-on-Avon. 
My  sleep,  in  the  little  bed  consecrated  by  the  slumbers  of  the 
immortal  Geoffrey,  was  sweet  and  light ;  and  I  write  myself 
Lis  debtor  for  a  large  share  of  the  pleasure  which  genius  like 
his  lavishes  on  the  world. 


CHARLECOTE. 


Once  more  posting  through  Shottery  and  Stratford  on- 
Avon,  on  the  road  to  Kenilworth  and  Warwick,  I  felt  a  plea- 
sure in  becoming  an  habitue  in  Shakspere's  town — it  being 
recognized  by  the  Stratford  post-boys,  known  at  the  Stratford 
inn,  and  remembered  at  the  toll-gates.  It  is  pleasant  to  be 
welcomed  by  name  anywhere ;  but  at  Stratford -on- A  von,  it  is 
a  recognition  by  those  whose  fathers  or  predecessors  were  the 
companions  of  Shakspere's  frolics.  Every  fellow  in  a  slouched 
hat — every  idler  on  a  tavern  bench — every  saunterer  with  a 
dog  at  his  heels  on  the  highway — should  be  a  deer-stealer 
from  Charlecote.     You  would  almost  ask  him,  "  Was  Will 

Shakspere  with  you  last  night  ?" 
[291] 


292  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


The  Lucys  still  live  at  Charlecote,  immortalized  by  a  varlet 
poaclier  who  was  tried  before  old  Sir  Thomas  for  stealing  a 
buck.  They  have  drawn  an  apology  from  "Walter  Savage 
Landor  for  making  too  free  with  the  family  history,  under 
cover  of  an  imaginary  account  of  the  trial.  I  thought,  as  we 
drove  along  in  sight  of  the  fine  old  hall,  with  its  broad  park 
and  majestic  trees — very  much  as  it  stood  in  the  days  of  Sir 
Thomas,  I  believe — that  most  probably  the  descendants  of  the 
old  justice  look  even  now  upon  Shakspere  more  as  an  offender 
against  the  game-laws  than  as  a  wTiter  of  immortal  plays.  I 
venture  to  say,  it  would  be  bad  tact  in  a  visiter  to  Charlecote 
to  felicitate  the  family  on  the  honor  of  possessing  a  park  in 
which  Shakspere  had  stolen  deer — to  show  more  interest  in 
seeing  the  hall  in  which  he  was  tried  than  in  the  family 
portraits. 

On  the  road  which  I  was  travelling  (from  Stratford  to 
Charlecote)  Shakspere  had  been  dragged  as  a  culprit.  What 
were  his  feelings  before  Sir  Thomas  ?  He  felt,  doubtless,  as 
every  possessor  of  the  divine  fire  of  genius  must  feel,  when 
brought  rudely  in  contact  with  his  fellow-men,  that  he  was  too 
much  their  superior  to  be  angry.  The  humor  in  which  he  has 
drawn  Justice  Shallow  proves  abundantly  that  he  was  more 
amused  than  displeased  with  his  own  trial.  Cut  was  there  no 
vexation  at  the  moment  ?  A  reflection,  it  might  be,  from  the 
estimate  of  his  position  in  the  minds  of  those  who  were  about 
him — who  looked  on  him  simply  as  a  stealer  of  so  much 
venison.     Did  he  care  for  Anne  Hathaway's  opinion  then  ? 

How  littljB  did  Sir  Thomas  Lucy  understand  the  relation  be- 
tween Judge  and  culprit  on  that  trial !  How  little  did  he 
dream  he  was  sitting  for  his  picture  to  the  pestilent  varlet  at 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  293 

the  bar ;  that  the  deer-stealer  could  belter  afford  to  forgive 
him  than  he  the  deerstealer  !  Genius  forgives,  or  rather  for- 
gets, all  wrongs  done  in  ignorance  of  its  immortal  presence. 
Had'  Ben  Jonson  made  a  wilful  jest  on  a  line  in  his  new  play, 
it  would  have  rankled  longer  than  fine  and  imprisonment  for 
deer-stealing.  Those  who  crowd  back  and  trample  upon  men 
of  genius  in  the  common  walk  of  life ;  who  cheat  them,  mis- 
represent them,  take  advantage  of  their  inattention  or  their 
generosity  in  worldly  matters,  are  sometimes  surprised  how 
their  injuries,  if  not  themselves,  are  forgotten.  Old  Adam 
Woodcock  might  as  well  have  held  malice  against  Eoland 
Graeme  for  the  stab  in  the  stuffed  doublet  of  the  Abbot  of 
Misrule. 

Yet,  as  I  might  have  remarked  in  the  paragraph  gone 
before,  it  is  probably  not  easy  to  put  conscious  and  secret  su-. 
periority  entirely  between  the  mind  and  the  opinions  of  those 
around  who  think  differently.  It  is  one  reason  why  men  of 
genius  love  more  than  the  common  share  of  solitude — to  recover 
self-respect.  In  the  midst  of  the  amusing  travesty  he  was 
drawing  in  his  own  mind  of  the  grave  scene  about  him,  Shak- 
spere  possibly  felt  at  moments  as  like  a  detected  culprit  as  he 
seemed  to  the  gamekeeper  and  the  justice.  It  is  a  small  pen- 
alty to  pay  for  the  after  worship  of  the  world  !  The  ragg-ed 
and  proverbially  ill-dressed  peasants  who  are  selected  from 
the  whole  campagna,  as  models  to  the  sculptors  of  Rome,  care 
little  w^t  is  thought  of  their  good  looks  in  the  Corso.  The 
disguised  proportions  beneath  their  rags  will  be  admired  in 
deathless  marble,  when  the  noble  who  scarce  deigns  their 
possessor  a  look  will  lie  in  forgotten  dust  under  his  stone 
scutcheon. 


WAEWICK    CASTLE. 


"Were  it  not  for  the  "  out-heroded  "  descriptions  in  the 
guide  books,  one  might  say  a  great  deal  of  Warwick  castle. 
It  is  the  quality  of  overdone  or  ill-expressed  enthusiasm  to 
silence  that  which  is  more  rational  and  real.  Warwick  is, 
perhaps,  the  best  kept  of  all  the  famous  old  castles  of  England. 
It  is  a  superb  and  admirably-appointed  modern  dwelling,  in 
th§  shell,  and  with  all  the  means  and  appliances  preserved  of 
an  ancient  stronghold.  It  is  a  curious  union,  too.  My 
lady's  maid  and  my  lord's  valet  coquet  upon  the  bartizan, 
where  old  Guy  of  Warwick  stalked  in  his  coat-of-mail.  The 
London  cockney,  from  his  two  days'  watering  at  Leamington, 
stops  his  pony-chaise,  hired  at  halfa-crown  the  hour,  and 
[294] 


TALKS  OVEB  TRAVEL.  2^5 

walks  Mrs.  Popkins  over  the  old  draw-bridge  as  peacefully  as 
if  it  were  the  threshold  of  his  shop  in  the  Strand.  Scot  and 
Frenchman  saunter  through  fosse  and  tower,  and  no  ghost  of 
the  middle  ages  stalks  forth,  with  closed  visor,  to  challenge 
these  once  natural  foes.  The  powdered  butler  yawns  through 
an  embrasure,  expecting  •'  miladi,"  the  countess  of  this  fair  do- 
main, who  in  one  day's  posting  from  London  seeks  relief  in 
Warwick  castle  from  the  routs  and  soirees  of  town.  What 
would  old  Gruy  say,  or  the  "  noble  imp"  whose  effigy  is  among 
the  escutcheoned  tombs  of  his  fathers,  if  they  could  rise 
through  their  marble  slabs,  and  be  whirled  over  the  draw- 
bridge in  a  post-chaise  ?  How  indignantly  they  would  listen 
to  the  reckoning  within  their  own  portcullis,  of  the  rates  for 
chaise  and  postillion.  How  astonished  they  would  be  at  the 
butler's  bow  and  the  proflfered  offioiousness  of  the  valet. 
"  Shall  I  draw  off  your  lordship's  boots  ?  Which  of  these 
^  new  vests  from  Staub  will  you  Jordship  put  on  for  dinner  ?" 
Aiy  Among  the  pictures  at  Warwick,  I  was  interested  by  a  por- 

trait of  Queen  Elizabeth  (the  best  of  that  sovereign  I  ever  saw  ;) 
one  of  Machiavelli,  one  of  Essex,  and  one  of  Sir  Philip  Sidney. 
The  delightful  and  gifted  woman  whom  I  had  accompanied  to 
the  castle  observed  of  the  latter,  that  the  hand  alone  expressed 
all  his  character.  I  had  often  made  the  remark  in  real  life,  but  1 
had  never  seen  an  instance  on  painting  where  the  like 
ness  was  so  true.  No  one  could  doubt,  who  knew  Sir  Philip 
Sidney's  character,  that  it  was  a  literal  portrait  of  his  hand. 
In  our  day,  if  you  have  an  artist  for  a  friend,  he  makes  use  of 
you  while  you  call,  to  "  sit  for  the  hand"  of  the  portrait  on 
his  easel.  Having  a  preference  for  the  society  of  artists  my- 
self, and  frequenting  their  studios  habitually,  I  know  of  some 


296         FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


hundred  and  fifty  unsuspecting  gentlemen  on  canvass,  who 
have  procured  for  posterity  and  their  children  portraits  of  their 
own  heads  and  dress-coats  to  be  sure,  but  of  the  hands  of 
o':her  persons  ! 

The  head  of  Machiavelli  is,  as  is  seen  in  the  marble  in  the 
gallery  of  Florence,  small,  slender,  and  visibly  "  made  to  creep 
into  crevices."  The  face  is  impassive  and  culm,  and  the  lips, 
though  slight  and  almost  feminine,  have  an  indefinable  firmness 
and  character.  Essex  is  the  bold,  plain,  and  blunt  soldier 
history  makes  him,  and  Elizabeth  not  unqueenly,  nor  (to  my 
thinking)  of  an  uninteresting  countenance ;  but,  with  all  the 
artist's  flattery,  ugly  enough  to  be  the  abode  of  the  murderous 
envy  that  brought  Mary  to  the  block. 

We  paid  our  five  shillings  for  having  been  walked  through 
the  marble  hall  of  Castle  Warwick,  and  the  dressing  room  of 
its  modern  lady,  and,  gratified  much  more  by  our  visit  than  I 
have  expressed  in  this  brief  description,  posted  on  to  Kenil* 
worth. 


>*K3^  klJ0U 


KENIL  WORTH. 


On  the  road  from  Warwick  to  Kenilworth,  I  thought  more 
of  poor  Pierce  Gaveston  than  of  Elizabeth  and  her  proud  earls. 
Edward's  gay  favorite  was  tried  at  Warwick,  and  beheaded 
on  Blacklow  hill,  which  we  passed  soon  after  leaving  the  town. 
He  was  executed  in  June  ;  and  I  looked  about  on  the  lovely 
hills  and  valleys  that  surround  the  place  of  his  last  moments, 
and  figured  to  myself  very  vividly  his  despair  at  this  hurried 
leave-taking  of  this  bright  world  in  its  brightest  spot  and  hour. 
Poor  Gaveston  1  It  was  not  in  his  vocation  to  die  !  He  was 
neither  soldier  nor  prelate,  hermit  nor  monk.  His  political 
•ins,  for  which  he  suffered,  were  no  offence  against  good  fel- 
lowship, and  were  ten  times  more  venial  than  those  of  the 
[297] 


298  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


"black  dog  of  Arden,"  who  betrayed  and  helped  to  murder 
him.  He  was  the  reckless  minion  of  a  king,  but  he  must  have 
been  a  merry  and  pleasant  fellow  ;  and  now  that  the  world 
(on  our  side  the  water  at  least)  is  grown  so  grave,  one  could 
go  back  with  Old  Mortality,  and  freshen  the  epitaph  of  a  heart 
that  took  life  more  gayly. 

As  we  approached  the  castle  of  the  proud  Leicester,  I  found 
it  easier  to  people  the  road  with  the  flying  Amy  Robsart  and 
her  faithful  attendant,  with  Mike  Lambourne,  Flibberligibbat, 
Kichard  Varney,  and  the  troop  of  mummers  and  players,  than 
with  the  more  real  characters  of  history.  To  assist  the  ro- 
mance, a  little  Italian  boy,  with  his  organ  and  monkey,  was 
fording  the  brook  on  his  way  to  the  castle,  as  if  its  old  towers 
still  held  listeners  for  the  wandering  minstrel.  I  tossed  him  a 
shilling  from  the  carriage  window,  and  while  the  horses  slowly 
forded  the  brook,  asked  him  in  his  own  delicious  tongue, 
where  he  was  from. 

"  S>orC  di  Firenze^  signore  P^ 

"  And  where  are  you  going  ?" 

''Li/  al  castello:' 

Come  from  Florence  and  bound  to  Kenilworth !  Who 
would  not  grind  an  organ  and  sleep  under  a  hedge,  to  answer 
the  hail  of  the  passing  traveller  in  terms  like  these  ?  I  have 
seen  many  a  beggar  in  Italy,  whose  inheritance  of  sunshine 
and  leisure  in  that  delicious  clime  I  could  have  found  it  in  my 
heart  to  envy,  even  with  all  its  concomitants  of  uncertainty 
and  want ;  but  here  wus  a  bright  faced  and  inky-eyed  child 
of  the  sun,  with  his  wardrobe  and  means  upon  his  back,  tra- 
velling, from  one  land  to  another,  and  loitering  wherever  there 
waa  a  resort  for  pleasure,  without  a  friend  or  a  care ;  and, 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  Q^g 

upon  my  life,  I  could  have  donned  his  velveteen  jacket,  and 
with  his  cheerful  heart  to  button  it  over,  have  shouldered  his 
organ,  put  my  trust  in  i  forest ieriy  and  kept  on  for  Kenilworth. 
There  really  is,  I  thought,  as  I  left  him  behind,  no  profit  or 
reward  consequent  upon  a  life  of  confinement  and  toil ;  no 
moss  ever  gathered  by  the  unturned  stone,  that  repays,  by  a 
thousandth  part,  the  loss  of  even  this  poor  boy's  share  of  the 
pleasures  of  change.  What  would  not  the  tardy  winner  of 
fortune  give  to  exchange  his  worn-out  frame,  his  unloveable 
and  furrowed  features,  his  dulled  senses,  and  his  vain  regrets, 
for  the  elastic  frame,  the  unbroken  spirits,  and  the  redeemable 
yet  not  oppressive  poverty  of  this  Florentine  regazzo  /  The 
irrecoverable  gem  of  youth  is  too  often  dissolved,  like  the 
pearl  of  Cleopatra,  in  a  cup  which  thins  the  blood  and  leaves 
disgust  upon  the  lip. 

The  magnificent  ruins  of  Kenilworth  broke  in  upon  my  mo- 
ralities, and  a  crowd  of  halt  and  crippled  ciceroni  beset  the 
carriage  door  as  we  alighted  at  the  outer  tower.  The  neigh- 
borhood of  the  Spa  of  Leamington  makes  Kenilworth  a  place 
of  easy  resort ;  and  the  beggars  of  Warwickshire  have  discov- 
ered that  your  traveller  is  more  liberal  of  his  coin  than  your 
sitter-at-home.  Some  dozens  of  pony-chaises,  and  small,  crop 
saddle-horses,  clustered  around  the  gate,  assured  us  that  we 
should  not  muse  alone  amid  the  ruins  of  Elizabeth's  princely 
gift  to  her  favorite.  We  passed  into  the  tilt-yard,  leaving  on 
our  left  the  tower  in  which  Edward  was  confined,  now  the 
only  habitable  part  of  Kenilworth.  It  gives  a  comfortable 
shelter  to  an  old  seneschal,  who  stands  where  the  giant  prob- 
ably stood,    with  Flibbertigibbet   under  his    doublet  for  a 


300  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

prompter ;  but  it  is  not  the  tail  of  a  rhyme  that  serves  now 
for  a  passport. 

Kenilworth,  as  it  now  stands,  would  probably  disenchant 
almost  any  one  of  the  gorgeous  dreams  conjured  up  by  read- 
ing Scott's  romance.  Yet  it  is  one  of  the  most  superb  ruins 
in  the  world.  It  would  scarce  be  complete  to  a  novel-reader, 
naturally,  without  a  warder  at  the  gate,  and  the  flashing  of  a 
spear-point  and  helmet  through  the  embrasures  of  the  tower. 
A  horseman  in  armor  should  pace  over  the  draw-bridge,  and 
a  squire  be  seen  polishing  his  cuiras  through  the  opening  gate ; 
while  on  the  airy  bartizan  should  be  observed  a  lady  in  hoop 
and  farthingdale,  philandering  with  my  lord  of  Leicester  in' 
silk  doublet  and  rapier.  In  the  place  of  this,  the  visiter  enters 
Kenilworth  as  I  have  already  described,  and  stepping  out  into 
the  tilt-yard,  he  sees,  on  an  elevation  before  him,  a  fretted  and 
ivy-covered  ruin,  relieved  like  a  cloud-castle  on  the  sky  ;  the 
bright  blue  plane  of  the  western  heavens  shining  through  win- 
dow and  broken  wall,  flecked  with  waving  and  luxuriant 
leaves,  and  the  crusted  and  ornamental  pinnacles  of  tottering 
masonry  and  sculpture  just  leaning  to  their  fall,  though  the 
foundations  upon  which  they  were  laid,  one  would  still  think, 
might  sustain  the  firmament.  The  swelling  root  of  a  creeper 
has  lifted  that  arch  from  its  base,  and  the  protruding  branch 
of  a  chance-sprung  tree,  (sown  perhaps  by  a  field-sparrow) 
has  unseated  the  keystone  of  the  next ;  and  so  perish  castles 
and  reputations,  the  masonry  of  the  human  hand,  and  the  fab- 
rics of  human  forethought ;  not  by  the  strength  which  they 
feared,  but  by  the  weakness  they  despised  !  Little  thought 
old  John  of  Gaunt,  when  these  rudely-hewn  blocks  were 
heaved  into  their  seat  by  his  herculean  workmen,  that,  after 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL. 


301 


resisting  fire  and  foe,  they  would  be  sapped  and  overthrown 
at  last  by  a  vine-tendril  and  a  sparrow  ! 

Clinofina-  asrainst  the  outer  wall,  on  that  side  of  the  castle 
overlooking  the  meadow,  which  was  overjflowed  for  the  aquatic 
sports  of  Kenilworth,  stands  an  antique  and  highly  ornamental 
fireplace,  which  belonged,  doubtless,  to  the  principal  hall. 
The  windows  on  either  side  looking  forth  upon  the  fields  be- 
low, must  have  been  those  from  which  Elizabeth  and  her  train 
observed  the  feats  of  Arion  and  his  dolphin ;  and  at  all  times, 
the  large  and  spacious  chimney-place,  from  the  castle's  first 
occupation  to  its  last,  m.ust  have  been  the  centre  of  the  even- 
ing revelry,  and  conversation  of  its  guests.  It  was  a  hook 
whereon  to  hang  a  revery,  and  between  the  roars  of  vulgar 
laughter  which  assailed  my  ears  from  a  party  lolling  on  the 
grass  below,  I  contrived  to  figure  to  myself,  with  some  dis- 
tinctness, the  personages  who  had  stood  about  it.  A  visit  to 
Kenilworth,  without  the  deceptions  of  fancy,  would  be  as  dis- 
connected from  our  previous  enthusiasm  on  the  subject  as 
from  any  other  scene  with  which  it  had  no  relation.  The  gen- 
eral eflfect  at  first,  in  any  such  spot,  is  only  to  dispossess  us, 
by  a  powerful  violence,  of  the  cherished  picture  we  had  drawn 
of  it  in  imagination  ;  and  it  is  only  after  the  real  recollection 
has  taken  root  and  ripened — after  months,  it  may  be — that  we 
can  fully  bring  the  visionary  characters  we  have  drawn  to  in- 
habit it.  If  I  read  Kenilworth  now,  I  see  Mike  Lambourne 
stealing  out,  not  from  the  ruined  postern  which  I  clambered 
through,  over  heaps  of  rubbish,  but  from  a  little  gate  that 
turned  noiselessly  on  its  hinges,  in  the  unreal  castle  built  ten 
years  ago  in  my  brain. 

I  had  wandered  away  from  my  companion.  Miss  Jane  Por- 


202  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

ter,  to  climb  up  a  secret  staircase  in  the  wall,  rather  too  diffi- 
cult of  ascent  for  a  female  foot,  and  from  my  elevated  position 
I  caught  an  accidental  view  of  that  distinguished  lady  through 
the  arch  of  a  Gothic  window,  with  a  background  of  broken 
architecture  and  foliage — presenting,  by  chance,  perhaps  the 
most  tilting  and  admirable  picture  of  the  authoress  of  the 
Scottish  Chiefs,  that  a  painter  iu  his  brightest  hour  could 
have  fancied.  Miss  Porter,  with  her  tall  and  striking  figure, 
her  noble  face  (said  by  Sir  Martin  Shee  to  have  approached 
nearer  iu  its  youth  to  his  beau  ideal  of  the  female  features  than 
any  other,  and  still  possessing  the  remains  of  uncommon 
beauty,)  is  at  all  times  a  person  whom  it  would  be  difficult  to 
see  without  a  feeling  of  involuntary  admiration.  But  standing, 
as  I  saw  her  at  that  moment,  motionless  and  erect,  in  the 
mourning  dress,  with  dark  feathers,  which  she  has  worn  since 
the  death  of  her  beloved  and  gifted  sister,  her  wrists  folded 
across,  her  large  and  still  beautiful  eyes  fixed  on  a  distant  ob- 
ject in  the  view,  and  her  nobly-cast  lineaments  reposing  in 
their  usual  calm  and  benevolent  tranquillity,  while,  around 
and  above  her,  lay  the  material  and  breathed  the  spirit  over 
which  she  had  held  the  first  great  mastery — it  was  a  tableau 
vivarU  which  I  was  sorry  to  be  alone  to  see. 

Was  she  thinking  of  the  great  mind  that  had  evoked  the 
spirits  of  the  ruins  she  stood  among — a  mind  in  which  (by  Sir 
Walter's  own  confession)  she  had  first  bared  the  vein  of  ro- 
mance which  breathed  so  freely  for  the  world's  delight? 
Were  the  visions  which  sweep  with  such  supernatural  dis- 
*  tinctoess  and  rapidity  through  the  imagination  of  genius — 
visions  of  which  the  millionth  portion  is  probably  scarce  com- 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  gOS 


municated  to  the  world  in  a  literary  lifetime — were  Elizabeth  s 
courtiers,  Elizabeth's  passions,  secret  hours^  interviews  with 
Leicester — were  the  imprisoned  king's  niglits  of  loneliness 
and  dread,  his  hopes,  his  indignant,  but  unheeded  thoughts 
— were  all  the  possible  circumstances,  real  or  imaginary,  of 
which  that  proud  castle  miglit  have  been  the  scene,  thronging 
in  those  few  moments  of  revery  through  her  fancy  ?  Or  was 
her  heart  busy  with  its  kindly  afifections,  and  had  the  beauty 
and  interest  of  the  scene  but  awakened  a  thought  of  one  who 
was  most  wont  to  number  with  her  the  sands  of  those  brighter 
hours  ? 

Who  shall  say  ?  The  very  question  would  perhaps  startle 
the  thoughts  beyond  recall — so  elusive  are  even  the  most  an- 
gelic of  the  mind's  unseen  visitants. 

I  have  recorded  here  the  speculations  of  a  moment  while  I 
leaned  over  the  wall  of  Kenilworth,  but  as  I  descended  by  the 
giddy  staircase,  a  peal  of  rude  laughter  broke  from  the  party 
in  the  fosse  below,  and  I  could  not  but  speculate  on  the  differ- 
ence between  the  various  classes  whom  curiosity  draws  to  the 
spot.  The  distinguished  mind  that  conceives  a  romance  that 
enchants  the  world,  comes  in  the  same  guise  and  is  treated 
with  bait  the  same  respect  as  theirs.  The  old  porter  makes 
no  distinction  in  his  charge  of  halfa-crown,  and  the  grocer's 
wife  who  sucks  an  orange  on  the  grass,  looks  at  the  dark 
crape  hat  and  plain  exterior — her  only  standards — and 
thinks  herself  as  well  dressed,  and  therefore  equal  or  supe- 
rior to  the  tall  lady,  whom  she  presumes  is  out  like  herself 
on  a  day's  pleasuring.  One  comes  and  goes  like  the  other, 
and   is  forgotten  alike  by  the  beggars  at  the  gate  and  the 


304  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

seneschal  within,  and  thus  invisibly  and  unsuspected,  before 
our  very  eyes,  does  genius  gather  its  golden  fruit,  and  while 
we  walk  in  a  plain  and  commonplace  world,  with  common- 
place and  sordid  thoughts  and  feelings,  the  gifted  walk  side 
by  side  with  us  in  a  world  of  their  own — a  world  of  which  we 
see  distant  glimpses  in  their  after-creations,  and  marvel  in 
what  unsunned  mine  its  gems  of  thought  were  gathered  ! 


A   VISIT   TO   DUBLIN   ABOUT   THE   TIME   OF 
THE    QUEEN'S   MAERIAGE. 


The  usual  directions  for  costume,  in  the  corner  of  the  court 
card  of  invitation,  included,  on  the  occasion  of  the  Queen's 
marriage,  a  wedding  favor,  to  be  v^^orn  by  ladies  on  the  shoul- 
der, and  by  gentlemen  on  the  left  breast.  This  trifling  ad- 
dition to  the  dress  of  the  individual  v^^as  a  matter  of  consider- 
able importance  to  the  milliners,  hatters,  etc.,  who,  in  a  sale 
often  or  twelve  hundred  white  cocicades  (price  from  two  dol- 
lars to  five)  made  a  very  pretty  profit.  The  power  of  giving 
a  large  ball  to  the  more  expensive  classes,  and  ordering  a  par- 
ticular addition  to  the  costume — in  other  words,  of  laying  a 
tax  on  the  rich  for  the  benefit  of  the  poor,  is   exercised  more 

frequently  in  Ireland  than  in  other  countries,  and  serves  the 
[305] 


306  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


double  purpose  of  popularity  to  the  Lord  Lieutenant,  and 
benefit  to  any  particular  branch  of  industry  that  may  be  suf- 
fering from  the  decline  of  a  fashion. 

The  large  quadrangular  court-yard  of  the  castle  rattled 
with  the  tramp  of  horses'  feet  and  the  clatter  of  sabres  and  spurs, 
and  in  the  uncertain  glare  of  torches  and  lamps,  the  gay 
colors  and  glittering  arms  of  the  mounted  guard  of  lancers 
had  a  most  warlike  appearance.  The  procession  which  the 
guard  was  stationed  to  regulate  and  protect,  rather  detracted 
from  the  romantic  effect — the  greater  proportion  of  equipages 
being  the  covered  hack  cars  of  the  city — vehicles  of  the  most 
unmitigated  and  ludicrous  vulgarity.  A  coffin  for  two,  set  on 
its  end,  with  the  driver  riding  on  the  turned-down  lid,  would 
be  a  very  near  resemblance ;  and  the  rags  of  the  driver,  and 
the  translucent  leanness  of  his  beast,  make  it  altogether  the 
most  deplorable  of  conveyances.  Here  and  there  a  carriage 
with  liveries,  and  here  and  there  a  sedan-chair  with  four  stout 
Milesian  calves  in  blue  stockings  trotting  under  the  poles, 
rather  served  as  a  foil  than  a  mitigation  of  the  eflfect,  and  the 
hour  we  passed  in  the  line,  edging  slowly  toward  the  castle, 
was  far  from  unfruitful  in  amusement.  I  learned  afterward 
that  even  those  who  have  equipages  in  Dublin  go  to  Court  in 
hack  cars  aa  a  matter  of  economy — one  of  the  many  indica- 
tions of  that  feeling  of  lost  pride  which  has  existed  in  Ire- 
land since  the  removal  of  the  parliament. 

A  hall  and  staircase  lined  with  files  of  soldiers  is  not  quite  as 
festive  an  entrance  to  a  ball  as  the  more  common  one  of  alleys 
of  flowering  shrubs ;  but  with  a  waltz  by  a  military  band  re- 
sounding from  the  lofty  ceiling,  I  am  not  sure  that  it  does  not 
temper  the  blood  as  aptly  for  the  spirit  of  the  hour.     It  was 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL. 


307 


a  rainy  liight,  and  the  streets  were  dark,  and  the  effect  upon 
myself  of  coming  suddenly  into  so  enchanted  a  scene — arms 
glittering  on  either  side,  and  a  procession  of  uniforms  and 
plumed  dames  winding  up  the  spacious  stairs — was  thrilling, 
even  with  the  chivalric  scenes  of  Eglinton  fresh  in  my  remem- 
brance. 

At  the  head  of  the  ascent  we  entered  a  long  hall,  lined  with 
the  private  servants  of  Lord  Ebrington,  and  the  ceremony  of 
presentation  having  been  achieved  the  week  before,  we  left  the 
throne-room  on  the  right,  and  passed  directly  to  St.  Patrick's 
Hall,  the  grand  scene  of  the  evening's  festivities.  This,  I 
have  said  before,  is  the  finest  ball-room  I  remember  in  Europe. 
Twelve  hundred  people,  seated,  dancing,  or  promenading,  were 
within  its  lofty  walls  on  the  night  whose  festivities  I  am 
describing;  and  at  either  end  a  gallery,  supported  by  columns 
of  marble,  contained  a  band  of  music,  relieving  each  other 
with  alternate  waltzes  and  quadrilles.  On  the  long  sides  of 
the  hall  were  raised  tiers  of  divans,  filled  with  chaperons,  vet- 
eran oflSeers^  and  other  lookers-on,  and  at  the  upper  end  was 
raised  a  platform  with  a  throne  in  the  centre,  and  seats  on 
either  side  for  the  family  of  the  Lord  Lieutenant,  and  the  more 
distinguished  persons  of  the  nobility.  Lord  Ebrington  was 
rather  in  his  character  of  a  noble  host  than  that  of  Viceroy, 
and  I  did  not  observe  him  once  seated  under  his  canopy  of 
state ;  but  with  his  Aids  and  some  one  of  the  noble  ladies  of 
his  family  on  his  arm,  he  promenaded  the  hall  conversing  with 
his  acquaintances,  and  seemingly  enjoying  in  a  high  degree  the 
brilliant  gayety  of  the  scene.  His  dress,by  the  way,  was  the 
simple  diplomatic  dress  of  most  continental  courts,  a  blue 
uniform  embroidered  with   gold,  the  various  orders  on   his 


308        FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


breast  forming  its  principal  distinction.  I  seldom  have  seen  a 
man  of  a  more  calm  and  noble  dignity  of  presence  than  the 
Lord  Lieutenant,  and  never  a  face  that  expressed  more 
strongly  the  benevolence  and  high  purity  of  character  for 
which  he  is  distinguished.  In  person,  except  that  he  is  taller, 
he  bears  a  remarkably  close  resemblance  to  the  Duke  of  "Wel- 
lington. 

We  can  scarcely  conceive,  in  this  country  of  black  coats, 
the  brilliant  effect  of  a  large  assembly  in  which  there  is  no 
person  out  of  uniform  or  court-dress — every  lady's  head  nod- 
ding with  plumes,  and  every  gentleman  in  military  scarlet  And 
gold  or  lace  and  embroidery.  I  may  add,  too,  that  in  this 
country  of  care-worn  and  pale  faces,  we  can  as  little  conceive 
the  effect  of  an  assembly  rosy  with  universal  health,  habitually 
unacquainted  with  care,  and  abandoned  with  the  apparent 
child-like  simplicity  of  high  breeding,  to  the  inspiring  gayety 
of  the  hour.  The  greater  contrast,  however,  is  between  a 
nation  where  health  is  the  first  care,  and  one  in  which  health 
is  never  thought  of  till  lost;  and  light  and  shade  are  not  more 
contrasted  than  the  mere  general  effect  of  countenance  in  one 
and  in  the  other.  A  stranger  travelling  in  our  country,  once 
remarked  to  me  that  a  party  he  had  attended  seemed  like  an 
entertainment  given  in  the  convalescent  ward  of  a  hospital — 
the  ladies  were  so  pale  and  fragile,  and  the  men  so  unjoyous 
and  sallow.  And  my  own  invariable  impression,  in  the  assem- 
blies I  have  first  seen  after  leaving  my  own  country,  was  a 
corresponding  one — that  the  men  and  women  had  the  rosy 
health  and  untroubled  gayety  of  children  round  a  Maypole. 
That  this  is  not  the  effect  of  climate,  I  do  most  religiously ' 
believe.     It  is  overmuch  care  and  over-fnuch  carelessness — the 


TALKS  OVER, TRAVEL  309 

corroding  care  of  an  avid  temerity  in  business,  and  the  care- 
lessness of  all  the  functions  of  life  till  their  complaints  become 
too  imperative  to  be  disregarded.  But  this  is  a  theme  out  of 
place. 

The  ball  was  managed  by  the  Grand  Chamberiain  (Sir  Wil- 
liam Leeson,)  and  the  aids-de-camp  of  the  Lord  Lieutenant, 
and  except  that  now  and  then  you  were  reminded  by  the 
movement  around  you  that  you  stood  with  your  back  to  the 
representative  of  royalty,  there  was  little  to  draw  your  atten- 
tion from  the  attractions  of  the  dance.  Waltz,  quadrille,  and 
gallop,  followed  each  other  in  giddy  succession,  and  "  what  do 
you  think  of  Irish  beauty  ?"  had  been  asked  me  as  often  as 
'how  do  you  like  America?"  was  ever  mumbled  through  the 
trumpet  of  Miss  Martineau,  when  I  mounted  with  a  friend  to 
one  of  the  upper  divans,  and  tried,  what  is  always  a  difficult 
task,  and  nowhere  so  difficult  as  in  Ireland,  to  call  in  the 
intoxicated  fancy,  and  anatomize  the  charm  of  the  hour. 

Moore's  remark  has  been  often  quoted — "there  is  nothing 
like  an  Irish  woman  to  take  a  man  off  his  feet ;"  but  whether 
this  figure  of  speech  was  suggested  by  the  little  bard's  com- 
mon soubriquet  of  "  Jumpup-and-kiss-me*  Tom  Moore,"  or 
simply  conveyed  his  idea  of  the  bewildering  character  of  Irish 
beauty,  it  contains,  to  any  one  who  has  ever  travelled  (or 
waltzed)  in  that  country,  a  very  just,  as  well  as  realizing 
description.  Physically,  Irish  women  are  probably  the  finest 
race  in  the  world — I  mean,  taller,  better  limbed  and  chested, 
larger  eyed,  and  with  more  luxuriant  hair,  and  freer  action, 
than  any  other  nation  I  have  observed.  The  Phoenician  and 
Spanish  blood  which  has  run  hundreds  of  years  in  their  veins, 

*  The  name  of  a  small  flower,  common  in  Ireland. 


310  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


still  kindles  its  dark  fire  in  their  eyes,  and  with  the  vivacity 
of  the  northern  mind  and  the  bright  color  of  the  northern  skin, 
these  southern  qualities  mingle  in  most  admirable  and  superb 
harmony.  The  idea  we  form  of  Italian  and  Grecian  beauty  is 
never  realized  in  Greece  and  Italy,  but  we  find  it  in  Ireland, 
heightened  and  exceeded.  Cheeks  and  lips  of  the  delicacy 
and  bright  teint  of  carnation,  wuth  snowy  teeth,  and  hair  and 
eyebrows  of  jet,  are  what  we  should  look  for  on  the  palette  ot 
Apelles,  could  we  recall  the  painter,  and  re-animate  his  far- 
famed  models;  and  these  varied  charms,  united,  fall  very 
commonly  to  the  share  of  the  fair  Milesian  of  the  upper 
classes.  In  other  lands  of  dark  eyes,  the  rareness  of  a  fine- 
grained skin,  so  necessary  to  a  brunette,  makes  beauty  as  rare 
— but  whether  it  is  the  damp  softness  of  the  climate  or  the  in- 
fusion of  Saxon  blood,  a  coarse  skin  is  almost  never  seen  in 
Ireland.  I  speak  now  only  of  the  better-born  ranks  of  society, 
for  in  all  my  travels  in  Ireland  I  did  not  chance  to  see  even 
one  peasant  girl  of  any  pretensions  to  good  looks.  From 
north  to  south,  they  looked,  to  me,  coarse,  ill-formed,  and 
repulsive. 

I  noticed  in  St.  Patrick's  Hall  what  I  had  remarked  ever 
since  I  had  been  in  the  country,  that  with  all  their  beauty, 
the  Irish  women  are  very  deficient  in  what  in  England  is  called 
style.  The  men,  on  the  contrary,  were  particularly  comme  il 
faut^  and  as  they  are  a  magnificent  race  (corresponding  to 
such  mothers  and  sisters)  I  frequently  observed  I  had  never 
seen  so  many  handsome  and  elegant  men  in  a  day.  Whenever 
I  saw  a  gentleman  and  lady  together,  riding,  driving,  or  walk- 
ing, my  first  impression  was,  almost  universally,  that  the  man 
was  in  attendance  upon  a  woman  of  an  inferior  class  to  his 


SECOND   VISIT   TO  ENGLAND. 


311 


own.  This  difference  may  be  partly  accounted  for  by  the  re- 
duced circumstances  of  the  gentry  of  Ireland,  which  keeps  the 
daughters  at  home,  that  the  sons  may  travel  and  improve ;  but 
it  works  differently  in  America,  where,  spite  of  travel  and 
every  other  advantage  to  the  contrary,  the  daughters  of  a 
family  are  much  oftener  lady-like  than  the  sons  are  gentleman- 
like. After  wondering  for  some  time,  however,  why  the  quick- 
witted women  of  Ireland  should  be  less  apt  than  those  of  other 
countries  in  catching  the  air  of  high  breeding  usually  deemed 
so  desirable,  I  began  to  like  them  better  for  the  deficiency, 
and  to  find  a  reason  for  it  in  the  very  qualities  which  make 
them  so  attractive.  Nothing  could  be  more  captivating  and 
delightful  than  the  manners  of  Irish  women,  and  nothing,  at 
the  same  time,  could  be  more  at  war  with  the  first  principles 
of  English  high  breeding — coldness  and  retenu.  The  frank, 
almost  hilarious  "  how  are  you  ?"  of  an  Irish  girl,  her  whole- 
handed  and  cordial  grasp,  as  often  in  the  day  as  you  meet 
her,  the  perfectly  un-missy-ish,  confiding,  direct  character  of 
her  conversation,  are  all  traits  which  would  stamp  her  as 
somewhat  rudely  bred  in  England,  and  as  desperately  vulgar 
in  New  York  or  Philadelphia. 

Modest  to  a  proverb,  the  Irish  woman  is  as  unsuspecting 
of  an  impropriety  as  if  it  were  an  impossible  tiling,  and  she  is 
as  fearless  and  joyous  as  a  midshipman,  and  sometimes  as 
noisy.  In  a  ball-room  she  looks  ill-dressed,  not  because  her 
dress  was  ill-put-on,  but  because  she  dances,  not  glides,  sits 
down  without  care,  pulls  her  flowers  to  pieces,  and  if  her 
head-dress  incommodes  her,  gives  it  a  pull  or  a  push — acts 
which  would  be  perfect  insanity  at  Almack's.  If  she  is 
offended,  she  asks  for  an  explanation.     If  she  does  not  under- 


3 1 2  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


stand  you,  she  confesses  her  ignorance.  If  she  wishes  to  see 
you  the  next  day,  she  tells  you  how  and  when.  She  is  the 
child  of  nature,  and  children  are  not  "stylish."  The  niminy- 
piminy,  eye-avoiding,  finger-tipped,  drawling,  don't-touch-me 
manner  of  some  of  the  fashionable  ladies  of  our  country, 
would  amuse  a  cold  and  reserved  English  woman  sufficiently, 
but  they  would  drive  an  Irish  girl  into  hysterics.  I  have  met 
one  of  our  fair  country-people  abroad,  whose  "  Grecian 
stoop,"  and  exquisitely  subdued  manner,  was  invariably  taken 
for  a  fit  of  indigestion. 

The  ball-supper  was  royally  sumptuous,  and  served  in  a 
long  hail  thrown  open  at  midnight ;  and  in  the  gray  of  the 
morning,  I  left  the  floor  covered  with  waltzers,  and  confessed 
to  an  Irish  friend,  that  I  never  in  mf  life,  not  even  at 
Almack's,  had  seen  the  half  as  much  true  beauty  as  had 
brightened  St.  Patrick's  Hall  at  the  celebration  of  the  queen's 
marriage. 


CLOSING  SCENES   OF   THE   SESSION   AT 
WASHINGTON. 


The  paradox  of  "  the  more  one  does,  the  more  one  can  do," 
is  resolved  in  life  at  "Washington  with  more  success  than  I 
have  seen  it  elsewhere.  The  inexorable  bell  at  the  hotel  or 
boarding-house  pronounces  the  irrevocable  and  swift  transit  oi 
breakfast  to  all  sleepers  after  eight.  The  elastic  depths  of 
the  pillow  have  scarcely  yielded  their  last  feather  to  tho 
sleeper's  head  before  the  drowse  is  rudely  shaken  from  his 
eyelids,  and  with  an  alacrity  which  surprises  himself,  he  finds 
his  toilet  achieved,  his  breakfast  over,  and  himself  abroad  to 
lounge  in  the  sunshine  till  the  flag  waves  on  the  capitol.  He 
would  retire  to  his  chamber  to  read  during  these  two  or  three 
vacant  hours,  but  the  one  chair  in  his  pigeon-hole  creaks,  or 
14  [313] 


314  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

has  no  b  ack  or  bottom,  or  his  anthracite  fire  is  out,  or,  is  too 
hot  for  the  size  of  the  room  ;  or,  in  short,  Washingtcn,  from 
whatever  cause,  is  a  place  \vere  none  read  except  those  who 
stand  up  to  a  padlocked  newspaper.  The  stars  and  stripes, 
moving  over  the  two  wings  of  the  Capitol  at  eleven  announce 
that  the  two  chambers  of  legislation  are  in  session,  and  the 
hard  working  idler  makes  his  way  to  the  senate  or  the  house. 
He  lingers  in  the  lobby  awhile,  amused  with  the  button-hole 
seizors  plying  the  unwilling  eai-s  of  members  with  their  claims, 
or  enters  the  library,  where  ladies  turn  overprints,  and  enfilade, 
with  their  battery  of  truant  eyes  the  comers  in  at  the  green  door. 
He  then  gropes  up  the  dark  staircase  to  the  senate  gallery,  and 
stifles  in  the  pressure  of  a  hot  gallery,  forgetting,  hke  listeners 
at  a  crowded  opera,  that  bodily  discomfort  will  unlink  the 
finest  harmonies  of  song  or  oratory.  Thence  he  descends  to 
the  rotunda  to  draw  breath  and  listen  to  the  more  practical, 
but  quite  as  earnest  eloquence  of  candidates  for  patents  ;  and 
passes,  after  a  while  to  the  crowded  gallery  of  the  house, 
where,  by  some  acoustic  phenomena  in  the  construction  of  the 
building,  the  voices  of  the  speakers  come  to  his  ears  as  articu- 
late as  water  from  a  narrow-necked  bottle.  "Small  blame  to 
them !"  he  thinks,  however ;  for  behind  the  brexia  columns 
are  grouped  all  the  fair  forms  of  Washington ;  and  in  making 
his  bow  to  two  hundred  despotic  lawgivers  in  feathers  and 
velvet,  he  is  readily  consoled  that  the  duller  legislators  who 
yield  to  their  sway  are  inaudible  and  forgotten.  To  this  upper 
house  drop  in,  occasionally,  the  younger  or  gayer  members  of 
the  lower,  bringing,  if  not  political  scandal,  at  least  some  slight 
resumer  of  what  Mr.  Somebody  is  beating  his  desk  about  be* 
low ;  and   thus,  crammed  with  the  day's  trifles  or  the  day's 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL  3l§ 

business,  and  fatigued  from  heel  to  eyelid,  our  idler  goes 
home  at  five  to  dress  for  dinner  and  the  night's  campaign, 
having  been  up  and  on  his  legs  for  ten  mortal  hours. 

Cold  water  and  a  little  silence  in  his  own  room  have  rather 
refreshed  him,  and  he  dines  at  six  with  a  party  of  from  fifteen 
to  twenty- five  persons.  He  discusses  the  vital  interests  of 
fourteen  millions  of  people  over  a  glass  of  wine  with  the  man 
whose  vote,  possibly,  will  decide  their  destiny,  and  thence  hur- 
ries to  a  ball-room  crammed  like  a  perigord  pie,  where  he 
pants,  elbows,  eats  supper,  and  waltzes  till  three  in  the  morn- 
ing. How  human  constitutions  stand  this,  and  stand  it  daily 
and  nightly,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  a  session,  may 
well  puzzle  the  philosophy  of  those  who  rise  and  breakfast  in 
ccanfortable  leisure. 

I  joined  the  crowd  on  the  twenty-second  of  February,  to 
pay  my  respects  to  the  President,  and  see  the  cheese.  What- 
ever veneration  existed  in  the  minds  of  the  people  toward  the 
former,  their  curiosity  in  reference  to  the  latter  predominated, 
unquestionably.  The  circular  pave^  extending  from  the  gate 
to  the  White  House,  was  thronged  with  citizens  of  all  classes, 
those  coming  away  having  each  a  small  brown  paper  parcel 
and  a  very  strong  smell ;  those  advancing  manifesting,  by 
shakings  of  the  head  and  frequent  exclamations,  that  there 
may  be  too  much  of  a  good  thing,  and  particularly  of  a 
cheese.  The  beautiful  portico  was  thronged  with  boys  and 
coach  drivers,  and  the  odor  strengthened  with  every  step. 
We  forced  our  way  over  the  threshold,  and  encountered  an 
atmosphere,  to  which  the  mepliitic  gas  floating  over  Avernufl 
must  be  faint  and  innocuous.  On  the  side  of  the  hall  hung  a 
rough  likeness  of  the  general,  emblazoned  with  eagle  and  stars, 


316  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


forming  a  background  to  the  huge  tub  in  which  the  cheese 
had  been  packed ;  and  in  the  centre  of  the  vestibule  stood  the 
*•  fragrant  gift,"  surrounded  with  a  dense  crowd,  who,  without 
crackers,  or  even  "  malt  to  their  cheese,"  had,  in  two  hours, 
eaten  and  purveyed  away  fourteen  hundred  pounds !  The 
small  segment  reserved  for  the  President's  use  counted  for 
nothing  in  the  abstractions. 

Glad  to  compromise  for  a  breath  of  cheeseless  air,  we 
desisted  from  the  struggle  to  obtain  a  sight  of  the  table,  and 
mingled  with  the  crowd  in  the  east  room.  Here  were  diplo- 
mates  in  their  gold  coats  and  officers  in  uniform,  ladies  of 
secretaries  and  other  ladies,  soldiers  on  volunteer  duty,  and 
Indians  in  war-dress  and  paint.  Bonnets,  feathers,  uniforms, 
and  all — it  was  rather  a  gay  assemblage.  I  remembered  the 
descriptions  in  travellers'  books,  and  looked  out  for  millers  and 
blacksmiths  in  their  working  gear,  and  for  rudeness  and  vul- 
garity in  all.  The  offer  of  a  mammoth  cheese  to  the  public 
was  likely  to  attract  to  the  presidential  mansion  more  of  the 
lower  class  than  would  throng  to  a  common  levee.  Great- 
coats there  were,  and  not  a  few  of  them,  for  the  day  was  raw, 
and  unless  they  were  hung  on  the  palings  outsidS,  they  must 
remain  on  the  owners'  shoulders ;  but,  with  a  single  exception 
(a  fellow  with  his  coat  torn  down  his  back,  possibly  in  getting 
at  the  cheese,)  I  saw  no  man  in  a  dress  that  was  not  respect- 
able and  clean  of  its  kind,  and  abundantly  fit  for  a  tradesman 
out  of  his  shop.  Those  who  were  much  pressed  by  the  crowd 
put  their  hats  on ;  but  there  was  a  general  air  of  decorum 
which  would  surprise  any  one  who  had  pinned  his  faith  on 
travellers.  An  intelligent  Englishman,  very  much  inclined  to 
take  a  disgust  to  mobocracy,  expressed  to  me  great  surprise 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  3-/ 


at  the  decency  and  proper  behavior  of  the  people.  The  same 
experiment  in  England,  he  thought,  would  result  in  as  pretty 
a  riot  as  a  paragraph-monger  would  desire  to  see. 

The  President  was  down  stairs  in  the  oval  reception  room, 
and,  though  his  health  would  not  permit  him  to  stand,  he  sat 
in  his  chair  for  two  or  three  hours,  and  received  his  friends 
with  his  usual  bland  and  dignified  courtesy.  By  his  side 
stood  the  lady  of  the  mansion,  dressed  in  full  court  costume, 
and  doing  the  honors  of  her  place  with  a  grace  and  amenity 
which  every  one  felt,  and  which  threw  a  bloom  over  the  hour. 
General  Jackson  retired,  after  a  while,  to  his  chamber,  and 
the  President  elect  remained  to  support  his  relative,  and  pre- 
sent to  her  the  still  thronging  multitude,  and  by  four  o'clock 
the  guests  were  gone,  and  the  "  banquet  hall  "  was  deserted. 
Not  to  leave  a  wrong  impression  of  the  cheese,  I  dined  after- 
ward at  a  table  to  which  the  President  had  sent  a  piece  of  it, 
and  found  it  of  excellent  quality.  It  is  like  many  other  things, 
more  agreeable  in  small  qualities. 

Some  eccentric  mechanic  has  presented  to  the  President  a 
sulkey,  made  entirely  (except  the  wheels)  of  rough-cut  hick- 
ory, with  the  bark  on.  It  looks  rough  enough,  but  has  very 
much  the  everlasting  look  of  old  Hickory  himself;  and  if  he 
could  be  seen  driving  a  high-stepping^  bony  old  iron-gray  steed 
in  it,  any  passer  by  would  see  that  there  was  as  much  fitness 
in  the  whole  thing  as  in  the  chariot  of  Bacchus  and  his  reeling 
leopards.  Some  curiously  twisted  and  gnarled  branches  have 
been  very  ingeniously  turned  into  handles  and  whip-box,  and 
the  vehicle  is  compact  and  strong.  The  President  has  left  it 
to  Mr.  Van  Buren. 

In  very  strong  contrast  to  the  sulkey,  stood  close  by,  the 


318  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


elegant  phaeton,  made  of  the  wood  of  the  old  frigate  Consti- 
tution. It  has  a  seat  for  two,  with  a  driver's  box,  covered 
with  a  superb  haramercloth,  and  set  up  rather  high  in  front  ; 
the  wheels  and  body  are  low,  and  there  are  bars  for  baggage 
behind ;  altogether,  for  lightness  and  elegance,  it  would  be  a 
turn  out  for  Long  Acre.  The  material  is  excessively  beauti- 
ful— a  fine  grained  oak,  polished  to  a  very  high  degree,  with 
its  colors  delicately  brought  out  by  a  coat  of  varnish.  The 
wheels  are  very  slender  and  light,  but  strong,  and,  with  all  its 
finish,  it  looks  a  vehicle  capable  of  a  great  deal  of  service.  A 
portrait  of  the  Constitution,  under  full  sail,  is  painted  on  the 
panels. 


THE  INAUGUKATIOK 


While  the  votes  for  president  were  being  counted  in  thi> 
senate,  Mr.  Clay  remarked  to  Mr.  Van  Buren  with  courteous 
significance : — 

"  It  is  a  cloudy  day,  sir !" 

"  The  sun  will  shine  on  the  fourth  of  March  !"  was  the  con- 
fident reply. 

True  to  his  augury,  the  sun  shone  out  of  heaven  without  a 
cloud  on  the  inaugural  morning.  The  air  was  cold,  but  clear 
and  life-giving;  and  the  broad  avenues  of  "Washington  for 
once  seemed  not  too  large  for  the  thronging  population.  The 
crowds  who  had  been  pouring  in  from  every  direction  for  sev- 
eral days  before,  ransacking  the  town  for  but  a  shelter  from 
[319] 


320 


FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


the  night,  were  apparent  on  the  spacious  sidewalks ;  and  the 
old  campaigners  of  the  wjnter  seemed  but  a  thin  sprinkling 
among  the  thousands  of  new  and  strange  faces.  The  sua 
shone  alike  on  the  friends  and  opponents  of  the  new  Adminis- 
tration, and,  as  far  as  one  might  observe  in  a  walk  to  the  cap- 
itol,  all  were  made  cheerful  alike  by  its  brightness.  It  was 
another  augury,  perhaps,  and  may  foretell  a  more  extended 
fusion  under  the  light  of  the  luminary  new  risen.  In  a  whole 
day  passed  in  a  crowd  composed  of  all  classes  and  parties,  I 
heard  no  remark  that  the  president  would  have  been  unwilling 
to  hear. 

I  was  at  the  capitol  a  half  hour  before  the  procession 
arrived,  and  had  leisure  to  study  a  scene  for  which  I  was  not 
at  all  prepared.  The  noble  staircase  of  the  east  front  of  the 
building  leaps  over  three  arches,  under  one  of  which  carriages 
pass  to  the  basement-door;  and,  as  you  approach  from  the 
gate,  the  eye  cuts  the  ascent  at  right  angles,  and  the  sky,  bro- 
ken by  a  small  spire  at  a  short  distance,  is  visible  beneath. 
Broad  stairs  occur  at  equal  distances,  with  corresponding  pro- 
-jections ;  and  from  the  upper  platform  rise  the  outer  columns 
of  the  portico,  with  ranges  of  columns  three  deep  extending 
pack  to  the  pilasters.  I  had  often  admired  this  front  with  its 
many  graceful  columns,  and  its  superb  flight  of  stairs,  as  one 
of  the  finest  things  I  had  seen  in  the  world.  Like  the  eflfect  of 
the  assembled  population  of  Rome  waiting  to  receive  the  bless- 
ing before  the  font  of  St.  Peter's,  however,  the  assembled 
crowd  on  the  steps  and  at  the  base  of  the  capitol  heightened 
inconceivably  the  grandeur  of  the  design.  They  were  piled 
up  like  the  people  on  the  temples  of  Babylon,  in  one  of  Mar- 
tin's sublime  pictures — every  projection  covered,  and  an  inex- 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL. 


321 


pressible  soul  and  character  given  by  their  presence  to  the 
architecture.  Boys  climbed  about  the  base  of  the  columns, 
single  figures  stood  on  the  posts  of  the  surrounding  railings  in 
the  boldest  relief  against  the  sky ;  and  the  whole  thing  was 
exactly  what  Paul  Veronese  would  have  delighted  to  draw.  I 
stood  near  an  accomplished  artist  who  is  commissioned  to  fill 
one  of  the  panels  of  the  rotunda,  and  I  can  not  but  hope  he 
may  have  chosen  this  magnificent  scene  for  his  subject* 

The  republican  procession,  consisting  of  the  Presidents  and 
their  families,  escorted  by  a  small  volunteer  corps,  arrived  soon 
after  twelve.  The  General  and  Mr.  Van  Buren  were  in  the 
"  constitution  phaeton,"  drawn  by  four  grays,  and  as  it  entered 
the  gate,  they  both  rode  uncovered.  Descending  from  the 
carriage  at  the  foot  of  the  steps,  a  passage  was  made  for  them 
through  the  dense  crowd,  and  the  tall  white  head  of  the  old 
Chieftain,  still  uncovered,  went  steadily  up  through  the  agita- 
ted mass,  marked  by  its  peculiarity  from  all  around  it. 

I  was  in  the  crowd  thronging  the  opposite  side  of  the 
court,  and  lost  sight  of  the  principal  actors  in  this  imposing 
drama,  till  they  returned  from  the  Senate  Chamber.  A  tem 
porary  platform  had  been  laid,  and  railed  in  on  the  broad  stair 
which  supports  the  portico,  and,  for  all  preparation  to  one  of 
the  most  important  and  most  meaning  and  solemn  ceremonies 
on  earth — for  the  inaguration  of  a  chief  magistrate  over  a  re- 
public of  fifteen  millions  of  freemen — the  whole  addition  to  the 
open  air,  and  the  presence  of  the  people,  was  a  volume  of  holy 
writ.  In  comparing  the  impressive  simplicity  of  this  consum- 
mation of  the  wishes  of  a  mighty  people,  with  the  tricked-out 
ceremonial,  and  hollow  show,  which  embarrass  a  corresponding 

jvent  in  other  lands,  it  was  impossible  not  to  feel  that  the 
14* 


322  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

moral  sublime  was  here — that  a  transaction  so  important,  and 
of  such  extended  and  weighty  import,  could  borrow  nothing 
from  drapery  or  decoration,  and  that  the  simple  presence  of 
the  sacred  volume,  consecrating  the  act,  spoke  more  thrillingly 
to  the  heart  than  the  trumpets  of  a  thousand  heralds. 

The  crowd  of  diplomatists  and  senators  in  the  rear  of  the 
columns  made  way,  and  the  Ex-President  and  Mr.  Van  Buren 
advanced  with  uncovered  heads.  A  murmur  of  feeling  rose 
up  from  the  moving  mass  below,  and  the  infirm  old  man, 
emerged  from  a  sick-chamber,  which  his  physician  had  thought 
it  impossible  he  should  leave,  bowed  to  the  people,  and,  still 
uncovered  in  the  cold  air,  took  his  seat  beneath  the  portico. 
Mr.  Van  Buren  then  advanced,  and  with  a  voice  remarkably 
distinct,  and  with  great  dignity,  read  his  address  to  the  people. 
The  air  was  elastic,  and  the  day  still ;  and  it  is  supposed  that 
near  twenty  thousand  persons  heard  him  from  his  elevated 
position  distinctly.  I  stood  myself  on  the  outer  limit  of  the 
crowd,  and  though  I  lost  occasionally  a  sentence  from  the  in- 
terruption near  by,  his  words  came  clearly  articulated  to  my 
ear. 

When  the  address  was  closed,  the  chief  justice  advanced  and 
administered  the  oath.  As  the  book  touched  the  lips  of  the 
new  President,  there  arose  a  general  shout,  and  expression  of 
feeling  common  enough  in  other  countries  but  drawn  with  dif- 
ficulty from  an  American  assemblage.  The  sons,  and  the  im- 
mediate friends  of  Mr.  Van  Buren,  then  closed  about  him ; 
the  Ex-President,  the  chief  justice,  and  others,  gave  him  the 
hand  of  congratulation,  and  the  ceremony  was  over.  They 
deacended  the  steps,  the  people  gave  one  more  shout  as  they 
mounted  the  constitution  carriage  together,  and  the  procession 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  323 


returned  through  the  avenue,  followed  by  the  whole  popula- 
tion of  Washington. 

Mr.  Van  Buren  held  a  levee  immediately  afterward,  but  I 
endeavored  in  vain  to  get  my  foot  over  the  threshold.  The 
crowd  was  immense.  At  four,  the  diplomatic  body  had  an 
audience ;  and  in  replying  to  the  address  of  Don  Angel  Cal- 
deron,  the  President  astonished  the  gold  coats,  by  addressing 
them  as  the  democratic  coips.  The  representatives  of  the 
crowned  heads  of  Europe  stood  rather  uneasily  under  the  epi- 
thet, till  it  was  suggested  that  he  possibly  meant  to  say  diplch 
malic. 


WASHINGTON  IN  THE  SESSION. 


There  is  a  sagacity  acquired  by  travel  on  the  subject  of 
forage  and  quarters,  which  is  useful  in  all  other  cities  in  the 
world  where  one  may  happen  to  be  a  stranger,  but  which  is 
as  inapplicable  to  the  emergencies  of  an  arrival  in 'Washington 
as  waltzing  in  a  shipwreck.  It  is  a  capital  whose  peculiarities 
are  as  much  sui  generis  as  those  of  Venice ;  but  as  those  who 
have  become  wise  by  a  season's  experience  neither  remain  on 
the  spot  to  give  warning,  nor  have  recorded  their  experiences 
in  a  book,  the  stranger  is  worse  off  in  a  coach  in  Washington 
than  in  a  gondola  in  the  "  city  of  silver  streets." 

It  is  well  known,  I  believe,  that  when  the  future  city  of 

Washington  was  about  being  laid  out,  there  were  two  largo 
[324J 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  325 


lot-buyers  or  land-owners,  living  two  miles  apart,  each  of 
whom  was  interested  in  having  the  public  buildings  upon  the 
centre  of  his  own  domain.  Like  children  quarrelling  for  a 
sugar  horse,  the  subject  of  dispute  was  pulled  in  two,  and  one 
got  the  head,  the  other  the  tail.  The  capitol  stands  on  a  ris- 
ing ground  in  solitary  grandeur,  and  the  President's  house  and 
department  buildings  two  miles  ofif  on  another.  The  city 
straddles  and  stretches  between,  doing  its  best  to  look  contin- 
uous and  compact ;  but  the  stranger  soon  sees  that  it  is,  after 
all,  but  a  "city  of  magnificent  distances,"  built  to  please 
nobody  on  earth  but  a  hackney-coachman. 

The  new-comer,  when  asked  what  hotel  he  will  drive  to, 
thinks  himself  very  safe  if  he  chooses  that  nearest  the  capitol 
— supposing,  of  course,  that,  as  Washington  is  purely  a  legis- 
lative metropolis,  the  most  central  part  will  naturally  be  near 
the  scene  of  action.  He  is  accordingly  set  down  at  Gadsby's, 
and,  at  a  price  that  would  startle  an  English  nobleman,  he 
engages  a  pigeon  hole  in  the  seventh  heaven  of  that  boundless 
caravansary.  Even  at  Gadsby's,  however,  he  finds  himself 
over  half  a  mile  from  the  capitol,  and  wonders,  for  two  or 
three  days,  why  the  deuce  the  hotel  was  not  built  on  some  of 
the  waste  lots  at  the  foot  of  Capitol  hill,  an  improvement 
which  might  have  saved  him,  in  rainy  weather,  at  least  five 
dollars  a  day  in  hack-hire.  Meantime  the  secretaries  and  for- 
eign ministers  leave  their  cards,  and  the  party  and  dinner-giv- 
ing people  shower  upon  him  the  "  small  rain  "  of  pink  billets. 
He  sets  apart  the  third  or  fourth  day  to  return  their  calls,  and 
inquires  the  addresses  of  his  friends  (which  they  never  write 
on  their  cards,  because,  if  they  did,  it  would  be  no  guide,)  and 


326  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


is  told  it  is  impossible  to  direct  him,  but  the  hackney-coachmen 
all  know  !  He  calls  the  least  ferocious-looking  of  the  most 
bullying  and  ragged  set  of  tatterdemalions  he  has  ever  seen, 
and  delivers  himself  and  his  visiting-list  into  his  hands.  The 
first  thing  is  a  straight  drive  two  miles  away  from  the  capitoir 
He  passes  the  President's  house,  and  getting  off  the  smooth 
road,  begins  to  drive  and  drag  through  cross  lanes  and  open 
lots,  laid  out  according  to  no  plan  that  his  loose  ideas  of  geom- 
etry can  comprehend,  and  finds  his  friends  living  in  houses  that 
want  nothing  of  being  in  the  country,  but  trees,  garden,  and 
fences.  It  looks  as  if  it  had  rained  naked  brick  houses  upon 
a  waste  plain,  and  each  occupant  had  made  a  street  with 
reference  to  his  own  front  door.  The  much-shaken  and  more- 
astonished  victim  consumes  his  morning  and  his  temper,  and 
has  made,  by  dinner-time,  but  six  out  of  forty  calls,  all  imper- 
atively due,  and  all  scattered  far  and  wide  with  the  same  loose 
and  irreconcilable  geography. 

A  fortnight's  experience  satisfies  the  stranger  that  the  same 
journey  is  worse  at  night  than  at  morning ;  and  that,  as  he 
leaves  his  dinner  which  he  pays  for  at  home,  runs  the  risk  of 
his  neck,  passes  an  hour  or  two  on  the  road,  and  ruins  him- 
self in  hack-hire,  it  must  be  a  very — yes,  a  very  pleasant  din- 
ner party  to  compensate  him.  Consequently,  he  either  sends 
a  "  p.  p.  c."  to  all  his  acquaintances,  and  lives  incog.,  or, 
which  is  a  more  sensible  thing,  moves  up  to  the  other  settle- 
ment, and  abandons  the  capitol. 

Those  who  live  on  the  other  side  of  the  President's  house 
are  the  secretaries,  diplomatists,  and  a  few  wealthy  citizens. 
There  is  no  hotel  in  this  quarter,  but  there  are  one  or  two 
boarding-hocuses,  and  (what  we  had  been  lucky  enough  to  se* 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL. 


327 


cure  ourselves)  furnished  lodgings,  in  which  you  have  every- 
thing but  board.  Your  dinner  is  sent  you  from  a  French 
cook's  near  by,  and  your  servant  gets  your  breakfast — a  plan 
which  gives  you  the  advantage  of  dining  at  your  own  hour, 
choosing  your  own  society,  and  of  having  covers  for  a  friend 
or  two  whenever  it  suits  your  humor,  and  at  half  an  hour's 
warning.  There  are  very  few  of  these  lodgings  (which  com- 
bine many  other  advantages  over  a  boarding-house,)  but  more 
of  them  would  be  a  good  speculation  to  house-owners,  and  I 
wish  it  were  suggested,  not  only  here,  but  in  every  city  in 
our  country. 

Aside  from  society,  the  only  amusement  in  Washington  is 
frequenting  the  capitol.  If  one  has  a  great  deal  of  patience, 
and  nothing  better  to  do,  this  is  very  well ;  and  it  is  very 
well  at  any  rate  till  one  becomes  acquainted  with  the  heads  of 
the  celebrated  men  in  both  the  chambers,  with  the  noble  ar- 
chitecture of  the  building,  and  the  routine  of  business.  This 
done,  it  is  time  wearily  spent  for  a  spectator.  The  finer  ora- 
tors seldom  speak,  or  seldom  speak  warmly,  the  floor  is 
oftenest  occupied  by  prosing  and  very  sensible  gentlemen, 
whose  excellent  ideas  enter  the  mind  more  agreeably  by  the 
eye  than  the  ear,  or,  in  other  words,  are  better  delivered  by 
the  newspapers,  and  there  is  a  great  deal  of  formula  and  eti- 
quetical  sparring  which  is  not  even  entertaining  to  the  mem- 
bers, and  which  consumes  time  "  consumedly."  Now  and 
then  the  senate  adjourns  when  some  one  of  the  great  orators 
has  taken  the  floor,  and  you  are  sure  of  a  great  effort  the 
next  morning.  If  you  are  there  in  time,  and  can  sit,  like 
Atlas  with  a  world  on  your  back,  you  may  enjoy  a  front  seat 
and  hear  oratory,  unsurpassed,  in  my  opinion,  in  the  world. 


328  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


The  society  in  Washington,  take  it  all  in  all,  is  by  many 
degrees  the  best  in  the  United  States.  One  is  prepared, 
though  I  cannot  conceive  why,  for  the  contrary.  We  read  in 
books  of  travels,  and  we  are  told  by  everybody,  that  the  so- 
ciety here  is  promiscuous,  rough,  inelegant  and  even  barba- 
rous. This  is  an  untrue  representation,  or  it  has  very  much 
changed. 

There  is  no  city,  probably  no  village  in  America,  where  the 
female  society  is  not  rej&ned,  cultivated,  and  elegant.  With 
or  without  regular  advantages,  woman  attains  the  refinements 
and  tact  necessary  to  polite  intercourse.  No  traveller  ever 
ventured  to  complain  of  this  part  of  American  society.  The 
great  deficiency  is  that  of  agreeable,  highly-cultivated  men, 
whose  pursuits  have  been  elevated,  and  whose  minds  are  pli- 
able to  the  grace  and  changing  spirit  of  conversation.  Every 
man  of  talents  possesses  these  qualities  naturally,  and  hence 
the  great  advantage  which  Washington  enjoys  over  every 
other  city  in  our  country.  None  but  a  shallow  observer,  or  a 
malicious  book-maker,  would  ever  sneer  at  the  exteriors  or 
talk  of  the  ill-breeding  of  such  men  as  form,  in  great  numbers, 
the  agreeable  society  of  this  place — for  a  man  of  great  talents 
never  could  be  vulgar;  and  there  is  a  superiority  about  moat 
of  these  which  raises  them  above  the  petty  standard  which 
regulates  the  outside  of  a  coxcomb.  Even  compared  with  the 
dress  and  address  of  men  of  similar  positions  and  pursuits  in 
Europe,  however  (members  of  the  house  of  commons,  for  ex- 
ample, or  of  the  chamber  of  deputies  in  France,)  it  is  positive- 
ly the  fact  that  the  senators  and  representative  of  the  United 
States  have  a  decided  advantage.  It  is  all  very  well  for  Mr. 
Hamilton,  and  other  scribblers  whose  books  must  be   spiced 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  329 


to  go  down,  to  ridicule  a  Washington  soiree  for  English  read- 
ers; but  if  the  observation  of  one  who  has  seen  assemblies  of 
legislators  and  diplomatists  in  all  the  countries  of  Europe  may 
be  fairly  placed  against  his  and  Mrs.  TroUope's,  I  may  assert, 
upon  my  own  authority,  that  they  will  not  find,  out  of  May 
Fair  in  England,  so  well-dressed  and  dignified  a  body  of  men. 
I  have  seen  as  yet  no  specimen  of  the  rough  animal  described 
by  them  and  others  as  the  "  western  member  ;"  and  if  David 
Crockett,  (whom  I  was  never  so  fortunate  as  to  see)  was  of 
that  description,  the  race  must  have  died  with  him.  It  is  a 
thing  I  have  learned  since  I  have  been  in  Washington,  to 
feel  a  wish  that  foreigners  should  see  Congress  in  session. 
We  are  so  humbugged,  one  way  and  another,  by  travellers* 
lies. 

1  have  heard  the  observation  once  or  twice  from  stran- 
gers since  I  have  been  here,  and  it  struck  myself  on  my 
first  arrival,  that  I  had  never  seen  within  the  same  limit  be- 
fore, so  many  of  what  may  be  called  "  men  of  mark."  You 
will  scarce  meet  a  gentleman  on  the  sidewalk  in  Washington, 
who  would  not  attract  your  notice,  seen  elsewhere,  as  an  in- 
dividual possessing  in  his  eye  or  general  features  a  certain 
superiority.  Never  having  seen  most  of  the  celebrated  speak- 
ers of  the  senate,  I  busied  myself  for  the  first  day  or  two  in 
examining  the  faces  that  passed  me  in  the  street,  in  the  hope 
of  knowing  them  by  the  outward  stamp  which,  we  are  apt  to 
suppose,  belongs  to  greatness.  I  gave  it  up  at  last,  simply 
from  the  great  number  I  met  who  might  be  (for  all  that  fea- 
tures had  to  do  with  it)  the  remarkable  men  I  sought. 

There  is  a  very  simple  reason  why  a  Congress  of  the  United 
States  should  be,  as  they  certainly  are,  a  much  more  marked 


330  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

body  of  men  than  the  English  house  of  commons  or  lords,  or 
the  chamber  of  peers  or  deputies  in  France.  I  refer  to  the 
mere  means  by  which,  in  either  case,  they  come  to  their  hon- 
ors. In  England  and  France  the  lords  and  peers  are  legis- 
lators by  hereditary  right,  and  the  members  of  the  commons 
and  deputies  from  the  possession  of  extensive  property  or  fam- 
ily influence,  or  some  other  cause,  arguing,  in  most  cases, 
no  great  personal  talent  in  the  individual.  They  are  legisla- 
tors, but  they  are  devoted  very  often  much  more  heartily  to 
other  pursuits — hunting  or  farming,  racing,  driving,  and  sim- 
ilar out-of-door  passions  common  to  English  gentlemen  and 
lords,  or  the  corresponding  penchants  of  French  peers  and  de- 
puties. It  is  only  the  few  great  leaders  and  orators  who  de- 
vote themselves  to  politics  exclusively.  With  us  every  one 
knows  it  is  quite  the  contrary.  An  American  politician  de- 
livers himself,  body  and  soul,  to  his  pursuit.  He  never  sleeps, 
eats,  walks,  or  dreams,  but  in  subservience  to  his  aim.  He 
cannot  afford  to  have  another  passion  of  any  kind  till  he  has 
reached  the  point  of  his  ambition — and  then  it  has  become  a 
mordent  necessity  from  habit.  The  consequence  is,  that  no 
man  can  be  found  in  an  elevated  sphere  in  our  country,  who 
has  not  had  occasion  for  more  than  ordinary  talent  to  arrive 
there.  He  inherited  nothing  of  his  distinction,  and  has  made 
himself  Such  ordeals  leave  their  marks,  and  they  who  have 
thought,  and  watched,  and  struggled,  and  contended  with 
the  passions  of  men  as  an  American  politician  inevitably  must, 
cannot  well  escape  the  traces  of  such  work.  It  usually  ele- 
vates the  character  of  the  face — it  always  strongly  marks  it. 

Apropos  of  "  men  of  mark;"  the  dress  circle  of  the  theatre 
at  Power's  benefit,  not  long  since,  was  graced  by  three  In- 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  33I 

dians  in  full  costume,  the  chief  of  the  Foxes,  the  chief  of  the 
loways,  and  a  celebrated  warrior  of  the  latter  tribe,  called  the 
Sioux-killer.  The  Fox  is  an  old  man  of  apparently  fifty,  with 
a  heavy,  aquiline  nose,  a  treacherous  eye,  sharp  as  an  eagle's, 
and  a  person  rather  small  in  proportion  to  his  head  and  fea- 
tures. He  was  dressed  in  a  bright  scarlet  blanket,  and  a 
crown  of  feathers,  with  an  eagle's  plume,  standing  erect  on 
the  top  of  his  head,  all  dyed  in  the  same  deep  hue.  His 
face  was  painted  to  match,  except  his  lips,  which  looked  of 
a  most  ghastly  sallow,  in  contrast  with  his  fiery  nose,  fore- 
head, and  cheeks.  His  tomahawk  lay  in  the  hollow  of  his 
arm,  decked  with  feathers  of  the  same  brilliant  color  with 
the  rest  of  his  drapery.  Next  him  sat  the  Sioux-killer,  in 
a  dingy  blanket,  with  a  crown  made  of  a  great  quantity  of 
the  feathers  of  a  pea-hen,  which  fell  over  his  face,  and  con- 
cealed his  features  almost  entirely.  He  is  very  small,  but  is 
famous  for  his  personal  feats,  having,  among  other  things, 
walked  one  hundred  and  thirty  miles  in  thirty  successive 
hours,  and  killed  three  Sioux  (hence  his  name)  in  one  battle 
with  that  nation.  He  is  but  twenty-three,  but  very  compact 
and  wiry-looking,  and  his  eye  glowed  through  his  veil  of  hen 
feathers  like  a  coal  of  fire. 

Next  to  the  Sioux-killer  sat  "White  Cloud,"  the  chief  of 
the  loways.  His  face  was  the  least  warlike  of  the  three,  and 
expressed  a  good  nature  and  freedom  from  guile,  remarkable 
in  an  Indian.  He  is  about  twenty-four,  has  very  large  fea- 
tures, and  a  fine,  erect  person,  with  broad  shoulders  and 
chest.  He  was  painted  less  than  the  Fox  chief,  but  of  nearly 
the  same  color,  and  carried,  in  the  hollow  of  his  arm,  a  small, 
glittering  tomahawk,  ornamented  with  blue  feathers.      His 


332        FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


head  was  encircled  by  a  kind  of  turban  of  silver-fringed  cloth, 
with  some  metallic  pendents  for  earrings,  and  his  blanket,  not 
particularly  clean  or  handsome,  was  partly  open  on  the  breast, 
and  disclosed  a  calico  shirt,  which  was  probably  sold  to  him 
by  a  trader  in  the  west.  They  were  all  very  attentive  to  the 
play,  but  the  Fox  chief  and  White  Cloud  departed  from  the 
traditionary  dignity  of  Indians,  and  laughed  a  great  deal  at 
some  of  Power's  fun.  The  Sioux-killer  sat  between  them, 
as  motionless  and  grim  as  a  marble  knight  on  a  tombstone. 

The  next  day  I  had  the  pleasure  of  dining  with  Mr.  Power, 
who  lived  at  the  same  hotel  with  the  Indian  delegation  ;  and 
while  at  dinner  he  received  a  message  from  the  loways,  ex- 
pressing a  wish  to  call  on  him.  We  were  sitting  over  our 
wine  when  White  Cloud  and  the  Sioux-killer  came  in  with 
their  interpreter.  There  were  several  gentlemen  present,  one 
of  them  in  the  naval  undress  uniform,  whose,  face  the  Sioux- 
killer  scrutinized  very  sharply.  They  smiled  in  bowing  to 
Power,  but  made  very  grave  inclinations  to  the  rest  of  us. 
The  chief  took  his  seat,  assuiniog  a  very  erect  and  dignified 
attitude,  which  he  preserved  immovable  during  the  interview ; 
but  the  Sioux-killer  drew  up  his  legs,  resting  them  on  the 
round  of  the  chair,  and,  with  his  head  and  body  bent  forward, 
, seemed  to  forget  himself,  and  give  his  undivided  attention  to 
the  study  of  Power  and  his  naval  friend. 

Tumblers  of  champagne  were  given  them,  which  they  drank 
with  great  relish,  though  the  Sioux-killer  provoked  a  little  rid- 
icule from  White  Cloud,  by  coughing  as  he  swallowed  it.  The 
interpreter  was  a  half-breed  between  an  Indian  and  a  negro, 
and  a  most  intelligent  fellow.  He  had  been  reared  in  the 
loway  tribe,  but  had  been  among  the  whites  a  great  deal  for 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  3^3 


the  last  few  years,  and  had  picked  up  English  very  fairly.  He 
told  us  that  White  Cloud  was  the  son  of  old  White  Cloud,  who 
died  three  years  since,  and  that  the  young  chief  had  acquired 
entire  command  over  the  tribe  by  his  mildness  and  dignity. 
He  had  paid  the  debts  of  the  loways  to  the  traders,  very  much 
against  the  will  of  the  tribe ;  but  he  commenced  by  declaring 
firmly  that  he  would  be  just,  and  had  carried  his  point.  He 
had  come  to  Washington  to  receive  a  great  deal  of  money  from 
the  sale  of  the  lands  of  the  tribe,  and  the  distribution  of  it  lay 
entirely  in  his  own  power.  Only  one  old  warrior  had  ventured 
to  rise  in  council  and  object  to  his  measures ;  but  when  White 
Cloud  spoke,  he  had  dropped  his  head  on  his  bosom  and  sub- 
mitted. This  information  and  that  which  followed  was  given 
in  English,  of  which  neither  of  the  loways  understood  a  word. 

Mr.  Power  expressed  a  surprise  that  the  Sioux-killer  should 
have  known  him  in  his  citizen's  dress.  The  interpreter  trans- 
lated it,  and  the  Indian  said  in  answer : — 

"  The  dress  is  very  different,  but  when  I  see  a  man's  eye  1 
know  him  again." 

He  then  told  Power  that  he  wished,  in  the  theatre,  to  raise 
his  war-cry  and  help  him  fight  the  three  bad-looking  men  who 
were  his  enemies  (referring  to  the  three  bailiffs  in  the  scene  in 
Paddy  Carey.)  Power  asked  what  part  of  the  play  he  liked 
best.  He  said  that  part  where  he  seized  the  girl  in  his  arms 
and  ran  off  the  stage  with  her  (at  the  close  of  an  Irish  jig  in 
the  same  play). 

The  interpreter  informed  us  that  this  was  the  first  time  the 
Sioux-killer  had  come  among  the  whites.  He  had  disliked 
them  always  till  now,  but  he  said  he  had  seen  enough  to  keep 
him  tellinp^  tales  all  the  rest  of  his  life.     Power  offered  them 


834 


FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


cigars,  which  they  refused.'  "We  expressed  our  surprise  ;  and 
the  Sioux-kiiler  said  that  the  Indians  who  smoked  gave  out 
soonest  in  the  chase  ;  and  White  Cloud  added,  very  gravely, 
that  the  young  women  of  his  tribe  did  not  like  the  breaths  of 
the  smokers.  In  answer  to  an  enquiry  I  made  about  the  com- 
parative size  of  Indians  and  white  men,  the  chief  said  that  the 
old  men  of  the  whites  were  larger  than  old  Indians,  but  the 
young  whites  were  not  so  tall  and  straight  as  the  youths  of  his 
tribe.  We  were  struck  with  the  smallness  of  the  chief's  hands 
and  feet ;  but  he  seemed  very  much  mortified  when  the  inter- 
preter translated  our  remark  to  him.  He  turned  the  little  sal- 
low fingers  over  and  over,  and  said  that  old  White  Cloud,  his 
father,  who  had  been  a  great  warrior,  had  small  hands  like  his. 
The  young  chief,  we  were  told  by  the  interpreter,  has  never 
yet  been  in  an  engagement,  and  is  always  spared  from  the 
heavier  fatigues  undergone  by  the  rest  of  the  tribe. 

They  showed  great  good  nature  in  allowing  us  to  look  at 
their  ornaments,  tomahawks,  &c.  White  Cloud  wore  a  collar 
of  bear's  claws,  which  marked  him  for  a  chief;  and  the  Sioux 
killer  carried  a  great  cluster  of  brass  bells  on  the  end  of  his" 
tomahawk,  of  which  he  explained  the  use  very  energetically.  It 
was  to  shake  when  he  stood  over  his  fallen  enemy  in  the  fight, 
to  let  the  tribe  know  he  had  killed  him.  After  another 
tumbler  of  champagne  each,  they  rose  to  take  their  leave,  and 
White  Cloud  gave  us  his  hand,  gently,  with  "a  friendly  nod. 
We  were  all  amused,  however,  with  the  Sioux  killer's  more 
characteristic  adieu.  He  looked  us  in  the  eye  like  a  hawk, 
and  gave  us  each  a  grip  of  his  iron  fist,  that  made  tlie  blood 
tingle  under  our  nails.  He  would  be  an  awkward  customer 
in  a  fight,  or  bis  fixed  lips  and  keen  eye  very  much  belie  him. 


WASHINGTON   AFTER  THE   SESSION. 


The  leaf  that  is  lodged  in  some  sunny  dell,  after  drifting  on 
the  whirlwind — the  .Indian's  canoe,  after  it  has  shot  the  rapids 
— the  drop  of  water  that  has  struggled  out  from  the  phlegethon 
of  Niagara,  and  sleeps  on  the  tranquil  bosom  of  Ontario — 
are  faint  images  of  contrast  and  repose,  compared  with  a 
Washingtonian  after  the  session.  I  have  read  somewhere,  in 
an  oriental  tale,  that  a  lover,  having  agreed  to  share  his  hfe 
with  his  dying  mistress,  took  her  place  in  the  grave  six  months 
in  the  year.  In  Bagdad  it  might  have  been  a  sacrifice.  In 
Washington  I  could  conceive  such  an  arrangement  to  make 
very  little  difference. 

Nothing  is  done  leisurely  in  our  country ;  and,  by  the  haste. 
[335] 

i  :.. . 


336  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


with  which  everybody  rushes  to  the  rail-road  the  morning 
after  the  rising  of  Congress,  you  would  fancy  that  the  cars, 
like  Cinderella's  coach  would  be  changed  into  pumpkins  at  the 
stroke  of  twelve.  The  town  was  evacuated  in  a  day.  On 
the  fifth  of  March  a  placard  was  sent  back  by  the  inn-keepers 
at  Baltimore,  declaring  that  there  was  not  so  much  as  a  gar- 
ret to  be  had"  in  that  city,  and  imploring  gentlemen  and  ladies 
to  remain  quietly  at  Washington  for  twenty-four  hours.  The 
railroad  engine  twice  a  day,  tugged  and  puffed  away  through 
the  hills,  drawing  after  it,  on  its  sinuous  course,  a  train  of 
brick  colored  cars,  that  resembled  the  fabulous  red  dragon 
trailing  its  slimy  length  through  the  valley  of  Crete.  The 
gentlemen  who  sit  by  the  fire  in  the  bar-room  at  Gadsby's, 
hke  Theodore  Hook's  secretary,  who  could  hear  his  master 
write  "  Yours  faithfully''  in  the  next  room,  learned  to  distin- 
guish "  Received  payment,"  from  "  Sundries,"  by  listening  to 
the  ceaseless  scratch  of  the  book-keeper.  The  ticket-office  at 
the  depot  was  a  scene  of  struggle  and  confusion  between 
those  who  wanted  places ;  while,  looking  their  last  on  these 
vanishing  paymasters,  stood  hundreds  of  tatterdemalions, 
•white,  yellow,  and  black,  with  their  hands  in  their  pockets,  and 
(if  sincere  regret  at  their  departure  could  have  wrung  it  forth) 
a  tear  in  their  eye.  The  bell  rang,  and  the  six  hundred  de- 
partures flocked  to  their  places — young  ladies,  with  long  faces, 
leaving  the  delights  of  "Washington  for  the  dull  repose  of  the 
country — their  lovers,  with  longer  faces,  trying,  in  vain,  to 
solve  the  X  quantity  expressed  by  the  aforesaid  **  Sundries" 
in  their  bill — and  members  of  congress  with  long  faces,  too — 
for  not  one  in  twenty  has  "  made  the  impression"  he  expected; 
and  he  is  moralizing  on  the  decline  of  the  tast^  for  eloquence, 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  337 

and  on  the  want  of  golden  opportunity"  for  the  display  of 
indignant  virtue  ! 

Nothing  but  an  army,  or  such  a  concourse  of  people  as  col- 
lects to  witness  an  inauguration,  could  ever  make  Washington 
look  populous.  But  when  Congress,  and  its  train  often  thou- 
sand casual  visiters  are  gone,  and  only  the  official  and  indige- 
nous inhabitants  remain,  Balbec,  or  Palmyra,  with  a  dozen 
Arabs  scattered  among  its  ruins,  has  less  a  look  of  desolation. 
The  few  stragglers  in  the  streets  add  to  its  loneliness — pro- 
ducing exactly  the  effect  sometimes  given  to  a  woodland  soli- 
tude by  the  presence  of  a  single  bird.  The  vast  streets  seem 
grown  vaster  and  more  disproportionate — the  houses  seem 
straggling  to  greater  distances — the  walk  from  the  President's 
house  to  the  capitol  seems  twice  as  long — and  new  faces  are 
seen  here  and  there,  at  the  doors  and  windows — for  cooks  and 
inn-keepers  that  had  never  time  to  lounge,  lounge  now,  and 
their  famihes  take  quiet  possession  of  the  unrented  front  par- 
lor. He  who  would  be  reminded  of  his  departed  friends 
should  walk  down  on  the  avenue.  The  carpet,  associated 
with  so  many  pleasant  recollections — which  has  been  pressed 
by  the  dainty  feet  of  wits  and  beauties — to  tread  on  which 
was  a  privilege  and  a  delight — is  displayed  on  a  heap  of  old 
furniture,  and  while  its  sacred  defects  are  rudely  scanned  by 
the  curious,  is  knocked  down,  with  all  its  memories,  under  the 
hammer  of  the  auctioneer.  Tables,  chairs,  ottomans — all 
linked  with  the  same  glowing  recollections — go — for  most 
unworthy  prices ;  and  while,  humiliated  with  the  sight,  you 
wonder  at  the  artificial  value  given  to  things  by  their  posses- 
sors, you  begin  to  wonder  whether  your  friends  themselves, 
subjected  to  the  same  searching  valuation,  would  not  be  de- 
15 


338  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


predated  too  !  Ten  to  one,  if  their  characters  were  displayed 
like  their  carpets,  there  would  come  to  light  defects  as  un- 
suspected ! 

The  person  to  whom  this  desolation  is  the  "  unkindest  cut" 
is  the  hackney-coachman.  "  His  vocation "  is  emphatically 
gone!  Gone  is  the  dollar  made  every  successive  half  hour! 
Gone  is  the  pleasant  sum  in  compound  addition,  done  "  in  the 
head,"  while  waiting  at  the  doors  of  the  public  offices  !  Gone 
are  the  short,  but  profitable  trips  to  the  theatre  !  Gone  the 
four  or  five  families,  all  taken  the  same  evening  to  parties,  and 
each  paying  the  item  of  *'  carriage  from  nine  till  twelve  1" 
Gone  the  absorbed  politician,  who  would  rather  give  the  five- 
dollar  bill  than  wait  for  his  change  !  the  lady  who  sends 
the  driver  to  be  paid  at  "  the  bar;"  the  uplifted  fingers,  hither 
and  thither,  which  embarrass  his  choice  of  a  fare — gone^  all ! 
The  chop-fallen  coachy  drives  to  the  stand  in  the  morning  and 
drives  home  at  noon ;  he  creeps  up  to  Fuller's  at  a  snail-pace, 
and,  in  very  mockery  of  hope,  asks  the  homeward-bound  clerk 
from  the  department  if  he  wants  a  coach  !  Night  comes  on, 
and  his  horses  begin  to  believe  in  the  millenium — and  the  cob- 
webs are  wove  over  his  whip-socket. 

These  changes,  however,  affect  not  unpleasantly  the  diplo- 
matic and  official  colony  extending  westward  from  the  presi- 
dent's. The  inhabitants  of  this  thin  sprinkled  settlement  are 
away  from  the  great  thoroughfare,  and  do  not  miss  its  crowds. 
The  cessation  of  parties  is  to  them  a  relief  from  night  journeys, 
colds,  card-leavings,  and  much  wear  and  tear  of  carriage- 
horses.  They  live  now  in  dressing-gowns  and  slippers,  read 
the  reviews  and  the  French  papers,  get  their  dinners  comfort- 
ably from  the  restaurateurs^  and  thank  Heaven  that  the  capitol 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL. 


339 


is  locked  up.  The  attaches  grow  fat,  and  the  despatches  grow 
thin. 

There  are  several  reasons  why  Washington,  till  the  month 
of  May,  spite  of  all  the  drawbacks  in  the  picture  delineated 
above,  is  a  more  agreeable  residence  than  the  northern  cities. 
In  the  first  place,  its  climate  is  at  least  a  month  earlier  than 
that  of  New  York,  and,  in  the  spring,  is  delightful.  The 
trees  are  at  this  moment  (the  last  week  in  March)  bursting 
into  buds ;  open  carriages  are  everywhere  in  use ;  walking  in 
the  sun  is  oppressive ;  and  for  the  last  fortnight,  this  has  been 
a  fair  chronicle  of  the  weather.  Boston  and  New  York  have 
been  corroded  with  east  winds,  meantime,  and  even  so  near  as 
Baltimore,  they  are  still  wrapped  in  cloaks  and  shawls.  To 
those  who,  in  reckoning  the  comforts  of  life,  agree  with  me  in 
making  climate  stand  for  nine-tenths,  this  is  powerful  attrac- 
tion. 

Then  the  country  about  Washington,  the  drives  and  rides, 
are  among  the  most  lovely  in  the  world.  The  banks  of  Kock 
creek  are  a  little  wilderness  of  beauty.  More  bright  waters, 
more  secluded  bridle-paths,  more  sunny  and  sheltered  hill- 
sides, or  finer  mingling  of  rock,  hill,  and  valley,  I  never  rode 
among.  Within  a  half  hour's  gallop,  you  have  a  sylvan  retreat 
of  every  variety  of  beauty,  and  in  almost  any  direction  ;  and 
from  this  you  come  home  (and  this  is  not  the  case  with  most 
sylvan  rides)  to  an  excellent  French  dinner  and  agreeable 
society,  if  you  like  it.  You  have  all  the  seclusion  of  a  rural 
town,  and  none  of  its  petty  politics  and  scandal — all  the  means 
and  appliances  of  a  large  metropolis,  and  none  of  its  exactions 
and  limitations.     That  which  makes  the  charm  of  a  city,  and 


340  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLAGES. 


that  for  which  we  seek  the  country,  are  equally  here,  and  the 
penalties  of  both  are  removed. 

Until  the  reflux  of  population  from  the  Rocky  mountains,  I 
suppose  Washington  will  never  be  a  metropolis  of  residence. 
But  if  it  were  an  object  with  the  inhabitants  to  make  it  more 
so,  the  advantages  I  have  just  enumerated,  and  a  little  outlay 
of  capital  and  enterprise  would  certainly,  in  some  degree, 
effect  it.  People  especially  who  come  from  Europe,  or  have 
been  accustomed  to  foreign  modes  of  living,  would  be  glad  to 
live  near  a  society  composed  of  such  attractive  materials  as 
the  oflBcial  and  diplomatic  persons  at  the  seat  of  government. 
That  which  keeps  them  away  is,  principally,  want  of  accom- 
modation, and,  in  a  less  degree,  it  is  want  of  comfortable  ac- 
commodation in  the  other  cities  which  drives  them  back  to 
Europe.  In  Washington  you  must  either  live  at  an  hotel  or  a 
boarding-house.  In  either  case,  the  mode  of  life  is  only  en- 
durable for  the  shortest  possible  period,  and  the  moment  Con- 
gress rises,  every  sufferer  in  these  detestable  places  is  off  for 
relief.  The  hotels  are  crowded  to  suffocation  ;  there  is  an 
utter  want  of  privacy  in  the  arrangement  of  the  suites  of 
apartments;  the  service  is  ill  ordered,  and  the  prices  out  of  all 
sense  or  reason.  You  pay  for  that  which  you  have  not,  and 
you  can  not  get  by  paying  for  it  that  which  you  want. 

The  boarding  house  system  is  worse  yet.  To  possess  but 
one  room  in  privacy,  and  that  opening  on  a  common  passage ; 
to  be  obliged  to  come  to  meals  at  certain  hours,  with  chance 
table  companions,  and  no  place  for  a  friend,  and  to  live  entirely 
in  your  bedroom  or  in  a  public  parlor,  may  truly  be  called  as 
abominable  a  routine  as  a  gentleman  could  well  suffer.     Yet 


TALKS  OVER  TRAVEL.  34  j 


the  great  majority  of  those  who  come  to  Washington  are  in 
one  or  the  other  of  these  two  categories. 

The  use  of  lodgings  for  strangers  or  transient  residents  in 
the  city  does  not,  after  all  the  descriptions  in  books,  seem  at  all 
understood  in  our  country.  This  is  what  Washington  w^ants, 
but  it  is  what  every  city  in  the  country  wants  generally.  Let 
us  describe  it  as  if  it  was  never  before  heard  of,  and  perhaps 
some  enlightened  speculator  may  advance  us  half  a  century  in 
some  of  the  cities,  by  creating  this  luxury. 

Lodgings  of  the  ordinary  kind  in  Europe  generally  consist 
of  the  apartments  on  one  floor.  The  house,  we  will  suppose, 
consists  of  three  stories  above  the  basement,  and  each  floor 
contains  a  parlor,  bedroom,  and  dressing-room,  with  a  small 
antechamber.  (This  arrangement  of  rooms  varies,  of  course, 
and  a  larger  family  occupies  two  floors.)  These  three  suites 
of  apartments  are  neatly  furnished ;  bed-clothes,  table-linen, 
and  plate,  if  required,  are  found  by  the  proprietor,  and  in  the 
basement  story  usually  hves  a  man  and  his  wife,  who  attend  to 
the  service  of  the  lodgers;  i.  e.,  bring  water,  answer  the  door- 
bell, take  in  letters,  keep  the  rooms  in  order,  make  the  fires, 
and,  if  it  is  wished,  do  any  little  cookery  in  case  of  sickness. 
These  people  are  paid  by  the  proprietor,  but  receive  a  fee  for 
extra  service,  and  a  small  gratuity,  at  departure,  from  the 
lodger.  It  should  be  added  to  this,  that  it  is  not  infra,  dig, 
to  live  in  the  second  or  third  story. 

In  connexion  with  lodgings,  there  must  be  of  course  a  cook 
or  restaurateur  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile.  The  stranger 
agrees  with  him  for  his  dinner,  to  consist  of  so  many  dishes, 
and  to  be  sent  to  him  at  a  certain  hour.  He  gives  notice  in 
the  morning  if  he  dines  out,  buys  his  own  wine  of  the  wine- 


342  FAAIOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


merchant,  and  thus  saves  two  heavy  items  of  overcharge  in  the 
hotel  or  boarding-house.  His  ovpd  servant  makes  his  tea  or 
coffee  (and  for  this  purpose  has  access  to  the  fire  in  the  base- 
ment,) and  does  all  personal  service,  such  as  brushing  clothes, 
waiting  at  table,  going  on  errands,  &c.,  &c.  The  stranger 
comes  in,  in  short,  at  a  moment's  warning,  brings  nothing  but 
his  servant  and  baggage,  and  finds  himself  in  five  minutes  at 
home,  his  apartments  private,  and  every  comfort  and  conve- 
nience as  completely  about  him  as  if  he  had  lived  there  for 
years. 

At  from  ten  to  fourteen  dollars  a  week,  such  apartments 
would  pay  the  proprietor  handsomely,  and  afford  a  reasonable 
luxury  to  the  lodger.  A  cook  would  make  a  good  thing  of 
sending  in  a  plain  dinner  for  a  dollar  a  head  (or  more  if  the 
dinner  were  more  expensive,)  and  at  this  rate,  a  family  of  two 
or  more  persons  might  have  a  hundred  times  the  comfort  now 
enjoyed  at  hotels,  at  certainly  half  the  cost. 

We  have  been  seduced  into  a  very  unsentimental  chapter  of 
"  ways  and  means,"  but  we  trust  the  suggestions,  though  con- 
taining nothing  new,  may  not  be  altogether  without  use.  The 
want  of  some  such  thing  as  we  have  recommended  is  daily 
and  hourly  felt  and  complained  of. 


ARTICLES  FROM  THE  JOURNAL, 

OF  WHICH   THE   AUTHOR   WAS   EDITOR, 
PUBLISHED  IN  NEW  YORK. 


LETTERS  FROM  ENGLAND  AND  THE 
CONTINENT  IN  1845-46. 


LETTER     I. 

"What  the  writer  has  seen  of  this  world  for  twenty-four 
DAYS. — The  passengers  of  the  Brittania. — The  differ- 
ence between  the  American  and  English  Custom-house 
officers. — The  working  classes. — Female  dress. — Bus- 
tles.— Writing  against  the  doctor's  orders,  etc. 

My  Dear  Morris. — All  I  have  seen  of  England  for  the  last 
twelve  days,  has  been  the  four  walls  of  a  bed  room,  and,  as 
all  I  saw  of  the  world  for  the  twelve  days  previous,  was  the 
interior  of  a  packet's  state-room,  I  may  fairly  claim,  like  the 
razor-grinder,  to  have  "  no  story  to  tell."  You  shall  have, 
however,  what  cobwebs  I  picked  from  the  corners. 

If  the  *  Brittannia'  had  burnt  on  the  passage,  and  a  phoenix 
had  arisen  from  its  ashes,  the  phoenix  would  have  been  a  well 
14  [345] 


346  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


16 

From  Mexico, 

1 

6 

West  Indies, 

2 

3 

East  Indies, 

3 

1 

British  Guiana, 

1 

2 

Guatimala, 

2 

12 

Denmark, 

1 

4 

Poland, 

1 

1 

Germany, 

9 

compounded  cosmopolite,  for — did  you  ever  see  such  variety  of 
nation  in  one  ship's  company  as  this  ? 

From  England, 
Scotland, 
Ireland, 
Wales, 
Canada, 
United  States, 
France, 
Spain, 

Of  the  Germans,  2  were  from  lianover,  2  from  Hamburgh, 
1  from  Baden,  1  from  Lubec,  2  from  Bremen,  and  1  from 
Heinault.  Mr.  Robert  Owen  was  one  of  the  Scotchmen,  and 
he  was  the  only  one  on  board,  I  fancy,  for  whom  fame  had 
made  any  great  outlay  of  trumpeting.  Six  clergymen  (! !) 
served  as  our  protection  against  the  icebergs.  I  doubt  whe- 
ther the  Atlantic,  had,  ever  before  such  a  broadwake  of  divin- 
ity drawn  across  it.  Probably,  the  true  faith  was  in  some  one 
of  their  keepings ! 

I  wish  to  ask  a  personal  favor  of  all  the  friends  of  the 
Journal  who  are  in  the  offices  of  the  American  Custom  Houses, 
viz :  that  they  would  retaliate  upon  Englishmen  in  the  most 
vexatious  manner  possible,  the  silly  and  useless  impediments 
thrown  in  the  way  of  passengers  landing  at  Liverpool.  We 
dropped  anchor  with  a  Custom  House  steamer  alongside,  and 
our  baggage  lay  on  deck  two  hours,  (time  enough  to  be  ex- 
amined twice  over)  before  it  was  transferred  to  the  government 
vessel.  We  and  our  baggage  were  then  taken  ashore  and 
landed  at  a  Custom  House.  But  not  to  be  examined  there  ! 
Oh,  no !  It  must  be  put  into  carts,  and  carried  a  mile  and  a 
half  to  another  Custom  House^  and  there  it  would  be  delivered 
to  U8  if  we  were  there  to  see  it  examined  !     We  landed  at  ten 


LETTER   I.  34Y 


oVlock  in  the  morning,  and  with  my  utmost  exertions,  I  did 
not  get  ray  baggage  till  three.  The  cost  to  me,  of  porterage, 
fees,  etc.,  was  three  dollars  and  a  half,  besides  the  theft  of 
two  or  three  small  articles  belonging  to  my  child.  I  was  too 
ill  to  laugh,  and  1  therefore  passed  the  matter  over  to  my 
resentments. 

During  the  four  or  five  hours  that  I  was  playing  the 
hanger-on  to  a  vulgar  and  saucy  custom  house  officer  at  Liver- 
pool, one  or  two  contrasts  crept  in  at  my  dull  eyes — contrasts 
between  what  I  had  left,  and  what  was  before  me.  The  most 
striking  was  the  utter  ivant  of  hope  in  the  countenances  of  the 
working  classes — the  look  of  dogged  submission  and  animal 
endurance  of  their  condition  of  life.  They  act  like  horses  and 
cows.  A  showy  equipage  goes  by,  and  they  have  not  the 
curiosity  to  look  up.  Their  gait  is  that  of  tired  donkeys,  sav- 
ing as  much  trouble  at  leg  lifting  as  possible.  Their  mouths 
and  eyes  are  wholly  sensual,  expressing  no  capability  of  a 
want  above  food.  Their  dress  is  without  a  thought  of  more 
than  warmth  and  covering,  drab  covered  with  dirt.  Their 
voices  are  a  half-note  above  a  grunt.  Indeed,  comparing  their 
condition  with  the  horse,  I  would  prefer  being  an  English 
horse  to  being  an  English  working-man.  And  you  will  easily 
see  the  very  strong  contrast  there  is,  between  this  picture,  and 
that  of  the  ambitious  and  lively  working-men  of  our  country. 

Another  contrast  strikes,  probably,  all  Americans  on  first 
landing — that  of  female  dress.  The  entire  absence  of  the 
ornamental — of  any  thing  indeed,  except  decent  covering — in 
all  classes  below  the.  wealthy,  is  particularly  English  and  par- 
ticularly un-American.  1  do  not  believe  you  would  find  ten 
female  servants  in  New-York  without  (pardon  my  naming  it) 


348  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


a  ''bustle."  Yet  I  saw  as  many  as  two  hundred  women  in 
the  streets  of  Liverpool,  and  not  one  with  a  bustle !  I  saw 
some  ladies  get  out  of  carriages  who  wore  them,  so  that  it  is 
not  because  it  is  not  the  fashion,  but  simply  because  the  pride 
(of  those  whose  backs  form  but  one  line)  does  not  outweigh 
the  price  of  the  bran.  They  wore  thick  shoes,  such  as  scarcely 
a  man  would  wear  with  us,  no  gloves  of  course,  and  their 
•whole  appearance  was  that  of  females  in  whose  minds  never 
entered  the  thought  of  ornament  on  week  days.  This  trifling 
exponent  of  the  condition  of  w^omen  in  England,  has  a  large 
field  of  speculation  within  and  around  it,  and  the  result  of 
philosophizing  on  it  would  be  vastly  in  favor  of  our  side  of 
the  water. 

As  this  letter  is  written  on  my  first  day  of  sitting  up,  and 
directly  against  the  doctor's  orders,  you  will  give  my  invalid 
brain  the  credit  of  coming  cheerfully  into  harness. 


LETTER    IE 


Having  some  delay  in  giving  my  little  Imogen  her  first 
English  dinner,  we  saved  our  passage  by  half  a  minute,  and 
were  off  from  Liverpool  at  4  precisely.  The  distance  to 
London  is,  I  believe,  220  miles,  and  we  did  it  in  five  hours — 
an  acceleration  of  speed  which  is  lately  introduced  upon  the 
English  railways.  There  are  slower  trains  on  the  same  route, 
and  the  price,  by  these,  is  less.  There  are  also  three  or  four 
different  kinds  of  cars  to  each  train,  and  at  different  prices.  I 
chanced  to  light  upon  the  first  class,  and  paid  £5  for  two 
places — my  nurse  and  child  counting  as  one.  I  understand, 
since,  that  many  gentlemen  and  ladies  of  the  most  respectable 
rank  take  the  second-class  cars — (as  few  Americans  would,  I 
[349] 


350  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


am  sorry  to  say,  though  there  would  be  two  degrees  still 
below  them.) 

This  travelling  at  forty  odd  miles  the  hour  give  one's  eyes 
hardly  time  to  know  a  tree  from  a  cow,  but  here  and  there  I 
got  a  distant  view  in  crossing  a  valley,  and  recognized  the 
lovely  rural  beauty  of  England,  the  first  impression  of  which 
lasts  one,  like  an  enchanted  memory,  through  life.  Notwith- 
standing the  great  speed,  the  cars  ran  so  evenly  on  their 
admirable  rails,  that  there  was  no  jar  to  prevent  one's  sleeping 
or  being  comfortable,  and  I  awoke  from  a  very  pleasant  dream 
to  find  myself  in  London. 

As  I  was  dressing  to  dine  out  on  the  following  day,  I 
stopped  tying  my  cravat  to  send  for  a  physician,  and  here,  if 
you  please,  we  will  make  a  jump  over  twelve  days,  and  come 
to  a  bright  morning  when  I  was  let  out  for  a  walk  in  Regent- 
street. 

It  is  extraordinary  how  little  the  English  change  !  Regent- 
street,  after  four  or  five  years,  is  exactly  what  Regent-street 
7vas.  The  men  have  the  same  tight  cravats,  coats  too  small, 
overbrushed  whiskers,  and  look  of.  being  excessively  wash'd. 
The  carriages  and  horses  exactly  the  same.  The  cheap  shops 
have  the  same  placard  of  "  selling  orr  "  in  their  broad  win- 
dows. The  blind  beggars  tell  the  same  story,  and  are  led  by 
the  same  doge ;  but  what  is  stranger  than  all  this  sameness,  is 
that  the  ladies  look  the  same  !  The  fashions  have  perhaps 
changed — in  the  milliners'  shops !  But  the  Englishing  that  is 
done  to  French  bonnets  after  they  are  bought,  or  the  English 
way  in  which  they  are  worn,  overpowers  the  novelty,  and  gives 


LETTER  II. 


351 


the  fair  occupants  of  the  splendid  carriages  of  London  the 
very  same  look  they  had  ten  years  ago. 

Still  there  are  some  slight  differences  observable  in  the 
street,  and  among  others,  I  observe  that  the  economical  private 
carriage  called  a  "  Brougham  "  is  very  common.  These  are 
low  cabs,  holding  two  or  four  persons,  with  a  driver,  and  per- 
haps a  footman  in  livery  on  the  outside  seat,  and  one  horso 
seems  to  do  the  work  as  well  as  two.  This  fashion  would  be 
.well,  introduced  into  New  York — that  is  to  say,  if  our  city  is 
ever  to  be  well  enough  paved  to  make  a  drive  any  thing  but 
a  dire  necessity.  The  paving  of  London  is  really  most  admir- 
able. Vast  city  as  it  is,  the  streets  are  smnoth  as  a  floor  all 
over  it,  and  to  ride  is  indeed  a  luxury.  The  break-neck,  hat- 
jamming  and  dislocating  jolts  of  Broadway  must  seem  to 
English  judgment  an  inexcusable  stain  on  our  public  spirit. 
And,  apropos  of  paving — the  wooden  pavement  seems  to  be 
entirely  out  of  favor.  Eegent-street  is  laid  in  wooden  blocks, 
and  in  wet  weather  (and  it  rains  here  some  part  of  every  day,) 
it  is  so  slippery  that  an  omnibus  which  has  been  stopped  in 
going  up  the  street  is  with  diflBculty  started  again.  The  horses 
almost  always  come  to  their  knees,  though  the  ascent  is  very 
slight,  and  the  falls  of  cart  and  carriage-horses  are  occurring 
continually.  Nothing  seems  to  "  do  "  like  the  McAdam  pave- 
ment, and  wherever  you  find  it  in  London,  you  find  it  in  as 
perfect  order  as  the  floor  of  a  bowling-alley.  I  see  that  all 
heavy  vehicles  are  compelled  to  have  very  broad  wheels,  and 
they  rather  improve  the  road  than  spoil  it.  A  law  to  the  same 
effect  should  be  passed  in  New  York,  if  it  ever  has  a  pave- 
ment worth  preserving. 

Observing  Lady  Blessington's  faultless  equipage  standing  at 


352  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

the  door  of  the  Cosmorama,  I  went  in  and  saw  her  Ladyship 
for  a  moment.  She  said  she  was  suffering  from  recent  illness, 
but  I  thought  her  looking  far  better  than  when  I  was  last  in 
Eno;land.     Her  two  beautiful  nieces  were  with  her,  and  Lord 

;  and  the  celebrated  Vidocq  (for  this  was  what  they 

had  come  to  see,)  was  showing  them  the  disguises  he  had 
worn  in  his  wonderful  detections  of  criminals,  the  weapons  he 
had  taken  from  them,  and  all  the  curiosities  of  his  career — 
himself  the  greatest.  I  looked  at  the  Prince  of  Policemen 
with  no  little  interest  of  course,  after  reading  his  singular 
memoirs.  He  is  a  fat  man,  very  like  the  outline  of  Louis 
Phillippe's  figure,  and  his  head,  enormously  developed  in  the 
perceptive  organs,  goes  up  so  small  to  the  top,  as  to  resemble 
the  pear  with  which  the  King  of  the  French  is  commonly  car- 
icatured. Vidocq's  bow  to  me  when  I  came  in  was  the  model 
of  elegant  and  respectful  suavity,  but  I  could  not  repress  a 
feeling  of  repugnance  to  him,  nevertheless. 

I  made  a  couple  of  calls  before  I  went  home.  The  chief 
topic  of  conversation  at  both  houses  was  the  charms  and  eccen- 
tricities of  an  American  belle  who  had  lately  married  into  a 
noble  family.  She  seems  to  have  enchanted  the  exclusives  by 
treating  them  with  the  most  un-deferential  freedom.  A  few 
evenings  since,  she  chanced  to  be  surrounded  by  a  half  dozen 
high  bred  admirers,  and  conversation  going  rather  heavily,  she 
proposed  a  cockfight.  Dividing  the  party  into  two  sides,  she 
tied  the  legs  of  the  young  men  together,  and  set  them  to  a 
game  of  fisticuffs — ending  in  a  very  fair  representation  of  an 
action  between  belligerent  roosters !  One  of  her  expressions 
was  narrated  with  great  glee.  She  chanced  to  have  occasion 
to  sneeze  when  sitting  at  dinner  between  two  venerable  noble- 


LETTER  II.  353 


men.  "  La  !"  she  exclaimed,  "  I  hope  I  didn't  splash  either  of 
you  I"  I  have  mentioned  only  the  drolleries  of  what  I  heard. 
Several  instances  of  her  readiness  and  wit  were  given,  and  as 
those  who  mentioned  them  were  of  the  class  she  is  shining  in, 
their  admiring  tone  gave  a  fair  reflection  of  how  she  is  looked 
upon — as  the  most  celebrated  belle  and  notability  of  high  life 
for  the  present  season. 


LETTER     III 


S Vicarage. 

I  TOOK  yesterday  an  afternoon's  country-drive  to  a  neigh- 
boring town,  with  no  idea  of  finding  anything  of  note-worthy 
interest,  but  it  strikes  me  that  one  or  two  little  matters  that 
made  a  mark  in  my  memory,  may  be  worth  recording.  Eng- 
land is  so  paved  and  hedged  with  matter  to  think  about,  that 
you  can  scarce  stir  without  pencilling  by  the  way. 

I  strolled  towards  a  very  picturesque  church  while  the 
ladies  of  my  party  were  shopping.  The  town  (Abingdon)  is 
a  tumbled-up,  elbowy,  crooked  old  place,  with  the  houses  all 
frowning  at  each  other  across  the  gutters,  and  the  streets  nar- 
row and  intricate.  The  church  was  a  rough  antique,  with 
the  mendings  of  a  century  or  two  on  the  originally  beautiful 
[3541 


LETTER   III.  355 


turrets  and  windows,  but  as  I  walked  around  it,  I  came  upon 
the  church-yard,  hemmed  in  at  awkward  angles  by  three  long 
and  venerable  buildings.  Two  of  these  seemed  to  have  been 
built  with  proper  reference  to  the  climate,  for  the  lower  sto- 
ries were  faced  with  covered  galleries,  wherein  the  occupants 
might  take  the  air,  and  yet  be  sheltered  from  the  rain. 
Through  the  low  arches  of  one  of  the  galleries,  I  saw  a  couple 
of  old  men  pacing  up  and  down,  and  on  inquiring  of  one  of 
them,  I  found  it  was  a  poor-house,  of  curious  as  well  as  an- 
cient endowment — the  funds  being  devoted  to  the  support  of 
twenty-five  widowers  and  as  many  widows.  What  else,  (be- 
side being  left  destitute)  was  necessary  to  make  one  a  reci- 
pient of  the  charity,  I  could  not  learn  of  my  informant.  He 
ushered  me,  however,  into  his  apartment,  and  a  charming 
little  rubbishy,  odd-angled,  confused  cupboard  it  was !  I 
could  not  but  mentally  congratulate  him  on  the  difference  be- 
tween his  snuggery  for  one^  (for  each  man  had  a  niche  to  him- 
self.) and  the  dreadfully  whitewashed  halls,  like  new  churches 
that  have  never  been  prayed  in,  in  which  the  poor  are  else- 
where imprisoned.  He  had  old  shoes  lying  in  one  corner, 
and  a  smoked  print  stuck  against  the  wall,  and  things  hung 
up  and  stuffed  away  untidily,  here  and  there — in  short,  it 
looked  like  a  home  !  The  whole  building  was  but  a  row  of 
these  single  rooms — a  long,  one-storied  and  narrow  structure, 
and  behind  was  a  garden  with  a  portion  divided  off  to  each 
pensioner — his  window  so  near  that  he  could  sit  in-doors  and 
inhale  the  fragrance  from  flowers  of  his  own  tending.  I  ra- 
ther think  every  man  was  his  own  turnkey  and  superinten- 
dent. 
But  we  visited  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon,  a  poor-house 


356 


FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


which  was  in  direct  contrast  to  this.  Abingdon  is  distin- 
guished for  possessing  the  7nodel  ivork-Jiouse  of  the  new  Union 
Syste7Uf  which  has  diminished  the  burthensome  cost  of  the 
poor,  to  the  country,  one  half.  It  used  to  be  customary  to 
give  the  helpless  paupers  two  shillings  a  week,  and  let  them 
shift  for  themselves,  if  they  preferred  it.  Now,  the  poor  of 
half  a  dozen  villages,  more  or  less,  are  provided  for  in  one 
"  improved  "  workhouse,  and  if  they  do  not  live  in  it,  they 
can  receive  nothing.  And,  to  live  in  it,  they  must  work  and 
submit  to  the  discipline. 

The  new  workhouse  was  a  building  of  three  long  wings,  in 
the  form  of  a  Y  ;  the  superintendent's  room  placed  in  the 
crotch,  and  his  windows  commanding  a  complete  view  of  the 
two  sides  of  each  wing.  The  gardens  and  workshops  were  in 
the  angles,  and  there  was  scarce  an  inch  of  the  premises  that 
was  not  overlooked  from  the  centre.  We  were  kindly  shown 
over  the  dijQferent  apartments.  The  cleanliness  was  enough  to 
discourage  a  fly.  A  smell  of  soapand-water's  utmost  com- 
pletely impregnated  the  atmosphere.  The  grain  of  the 
scrubbed  tables  stood  on  end.  The  little  straight  beds  looked 
as  if  it  must  be  a  bold  man  who  would  crook  his  legs  in  them. 
The  windows  were  too  high  for  a  child  or  a  short  person  to 
look  out.  It  was  like  an  insane  hospital  or  a  prison.  In  one 
of  the  first  rooms  we  entered,  was  a  delicate  and  pretty  child 
of  seven  or  eight  years  of  age,  a  new  inmate.  Her  mother, 
who  was  her  only  relative,  had  just  died  in  a  neighboring  vil- 
lage, and  left  her  quite  alone  in  the  world.  She  was  shut  up 
in  a  room  with  an  old  woman,  for  by  the  **  regulations,"  she 
was  to  be  separated  some  days  from  the  other  children,  to 
make  sure  that  she  brought  no  disease  into  the  work-house. 


LETTER  III.  357 


But  the  sight  of  the  poor  little  sobbing  thing,  sitting  on  the 
middle  of  u  long  clean  bench,  with  no  object  to  look  at  within 
the  four  white  walls,  except  a  table  and  a  soured  old  woman, 
looked  very  little  like  "  charity."  And  the  hopeless  down-hill 
of  her  sob  sounded  as  if  she  felt  but  little  like  one  newly  be- 
friended. **  She's  done  nothing  but  cry  all  the  day  long!" 
said  the  old  woman.  Fortunately  I  had  a  pocket  full  of 
sweets,  intended  for  a  happier  child,  and  I  was  able  to  make 
one  break  in  her  long  day's  monotony. 

In  another  room  we  found  ten  or  twelve  old  women,  who 
were  too  decrepid  for  work  of  any  kind.  But  they  had  laps 
left  /*  And  in  each  one's  lap  lay  a  baby.  The  old  knees 
were  trotting  with  the  new-born  of  pauper  mothers,  and  but 
for  its  dreadful  uniformity — each  old  trunk  grafted  with  a  bud, 
and  trunks  and  buds  dressed  and  swathed  in  the  poor-house 
uniform — this  room  full  of  life's  helpless  extremities  would 
have  seemed  the  happiest  of  all.  They  cuddled  up  their  dru- 
ling  charges  as  we  approached  the  benches  on  which  they  sat, 
and  chirruped  their  toothless  "  tsup  !  tsup  !  tsup  !"  as  if  each 
was  proud  of  her  charge.  One  of  the  old  women  complained 
bitterly  of  not  being  allowed  to  have  a  pinch  of  snuff.  The 
reason  why,  was  because  the  others  would  want  it  too,  or  de- 
mand an  equivalent,  paupers  being  cared  for  by  system.  The 
unhappy  and  improvident  creature  had  educated  a  superfluous 
want ! 

The  sick  rooms  were  marked  with  the  same  painful  naked 
neatness.  Old  people,  disposed  of  to  die,  economically  tucked 
up  in  rows  against  the  wall,  with  no  person  to  come  near  them 

*  Bloomers  please  take  notice. 


358         FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


except  the  one  to  nurse  a  dozen,  form  a  dreadful  series.  Beally, 
there  should  be  some  things  sacred  from  classification.  The 
fifth  acts  of  dramas,  like  whole  human  lives,  should  not 
pass  like  the  shelving  of  utensils  that  are  one  degree  short  of 
worthless.  I  stood  looking  for  a  minute  or  two  at  an  old  man 
whose  only  reply  to  "  well,  how  are  you  now  ?"  was  a  hopeless 
lifting  and  dropping  of  the  eyelids,  and  I  wondered  whether 
a  life  was  worth  having,  that  had  such  possible  terminations 
in  its  dark  lottery. 

The  children's  school  seemed  under  more  genial  charge,  and 
there  w^ere  prints  hung  upon  the  walls  of  their  school-room. 
The  weaving  and  spinning-rooms  looked  cheerful  also.  Some 
thirty  boys  singing  hymns  together  while  at  work,  and  seem- 
ing contentedly  employed.  To  the  old  of  both  sexes, 
however,  this  kind  of  poor-house  is  utterly  repulsive,  I 
was  told,  and  the  taking  refuge  in  it  is  considered  by  the  poor 
hardly  better  than  starvation.  One  of  the  rules  seems  to  bear 
very  hard — married  paupers  (an  old  couple  for  instance,)  being 
put  into  difi*erent  wards,  and  only  permitted  to  see  each  other 
once  a  week,  and  then  in  the  presence  of  superintendents. 

The  flower-beds  at  the  front  door  were  in  great  splendor 
with  the  lillies  in  bloom.  I  culled  the  door  keeper's  attention 
to  the  inappropriateness  of  this  particular  ornament  to  the 
threshold  of  a  work-house.  "  They  toil  not,  neither  do  they 
spin,"  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 


F 


LETTER     IV 


An  excursion  of  fifty  miles  and  back  "  to  pass  the  day"  at  a 
place — setting  off  after  breakfast,  and  getting  home  "  before 
tea" — used  to  be  done  on  a  witch's  broom  exclusively.  People 
who  are  neither  bewitched  nor  bewitching  can  do  it  now! 
Railroads  have  disenchanted  the  world.  The  secluded  Vicar- 
age of  S ,  is  half  way  from  London  to  Bath,  in  a  village 

lying  upon  the  route  of  the  Great  Western  Railroad.  I  had 
never  seen  the  Saratoga  of  England,  and,  chatting  with  my 
kind  relatives,  over  the  things  that  were  to  be  seen  in  the 
neighborhood,  I  was  rather  startled  to  hear  of  the  possibility 
of "  passing  the  day  at  Bath."  Beau  Nash  and  the  Pump- 
room,  rose  up,  of  course,  vividly  and  instantly.  The  scene  of 
the  loves  and  gayeties  of  the  gayest  age  of  England,  was  close 
359 


360  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


at  my  elbow — near  enough,  at  least,  to  visit  without  a  carpet- 
bag.    The  opportunity  was  not  to  be  lost. 

By  the  "  Express"  train  we  might  "  do"  the  fifty  miles  in  an 
hour^  but  we  preferred  the  slow  train  to  do  it  in  two.  We  in- 
car-cerated  ourselves,  at  10  o'clock  of  the  first  fair  day  I  have 
seen  in  a  month,  and  were  presently  getting,  {very  literally  in- 
deed,) a  bird's  eye  view  of  the  carpet-like  scenery  of  Berk- 
shire. •• 

At  the  second  or  third  station,  we  took  in,  for  passengers, 
four  idiots,  under  the  care  of  an  hospital-keeper.  When  taken 
out  of  the  carriage  in  which  they  were  brought,  two  of  them 
collapsed  to  the  ground,  not  having  mind  enough  to  stand  on 
their  legs,  though  apparently  in  perfect  health.  One  minute 
thus  and  the  next  minute  going  at  the  rate  of  thirty  mileg  an 
hour,  is  a  contrast ! 

At  Swindon,  the  junction  between  the  Gloucester  Railway 
and  this,  the  station  buildings  are  really  unnecessarily  splendid. 
The  reception  room,  with  its  immense  mirrors,  vol  vet  sofas, 
bronzes  and  waiting  women  in  full  dress,  is  as  sumptuous  as  a 
royal  palace.  The  windows  are  as  large  as  doors,  and  of  one  pane 
of  pier-glass.  The  room  itself  is  as  large  and  high  as  the  gen- 
tlemen's dining  room  at  the  Astor,  and  yet  a  room  exactly  corres- 
ponding is  on  the  other  side  of  the  track — one  to  accomnjo- 
date  the  "  up  train,"  and  the  other  the  "  down  train."  The 
rustic  inhabitants  of  the  little  village  of  Swindon  must  live  in  sur- 
prise at  the  magnificent  wants  of  travellers — the  curls  and 
chemisettes  of  the  waiting-girls  behind  the  counter  included  I 

At  the  little  village  of"  Box,"  (a  snug  name  for  a  village, 
by  the  bye)  commences  the  two  mile  tunnel  under  the  chalk 
bills,  and  so  suddenly  do  the  cars  dive  into  the  darkness,  that 


LETTER  IV.  361 


one'  8  eyes  are  at  a  loss  to  know  what  to  do  with  the  light  left 
in  the  eyeballs.  If  a  man  ever  threatens  to  "  knock  the  day- 
light out  of  me"  again,  I  shall  have  a  glimmer  of  its  having 
been  done  before — (at  Box.)  But  I  predict  an  awful  smash 
in  this  tunnel,  yet.  Chalk  and  flint-stones  are  very  friable  neigh- 
bors,  and  hills  are  heavy,  and  the  concussion  of  air,  with  a  train 
going  under  ground  at  the  rate  of  a  mile  a  minute,  is  enough 
to  sift  away  particles  very  speedily.  A  train  might  come  out  with 
a  load  of  stone  it  never  went  in  with,  and  there  is  gloomy  time 
enough  to  anticipate  it,  while  one  is  whizzing  and  thundering 
onwards  toward  the  black  dark  of  the  Box  tunnel. 

The  villages  thicker,  and  the  hills  grow  steeper  as  we  ap- 
proach Bath,  and  at  last  you  are  suddenly  shot  into  a  bowl 
of  palaces  and  verdure — the  bottom  covered  with  gardens,  and 
the  sides  with  terraced  crescents  of  architecture.  I  had  just 
time  to  exclaim  with  wonder  at  the  unexpected  splendor  ot 
-the  hill  sides  rounding  us  in,  when  the  station  roof  slid  over  us 
lite  an  extinguisher,  and  the  conductor's  voice  announced  that 
we  were  at  Bath. 

16 


LETTER     V. 


Boys  by  dozens,  offering  to  be  our^guides,  and  six  or  seven 
rival  omnibusses  begging  us  for  the  hotels. 

Leaving  cloak  and  shawl,  and  ordering  dinner  at  three,  at 
the  hotel  adjoining  the  station,  we  sallied  forth  to  ramble  the 
town  over,  with  three  good  hours  before  us — the  return  cars 
leaving  at  four.  As  I  just  now  said,  the  bottom  of  this  vase 
of  hills  is  laid  out  in  gardens,  and  we  crossed  to  the  other  side 
upon  a  raised  road  which  looks  down  upon  a  beautiful  par- 
terre of  gravel  walks  and  flowers,  free  to  the  public  to  look  at. 
But  the  stranger  stops  at  every  second  step,  to  gaze  about 
and  wonder.  I  had  read  very  glowing  descriptions  of  Bath, 
but  my  anticipation,  even  of  its  size,  was  three  fourths  less  than 
[3621 


LETTER  V.  303 


the  reality.  Its  picturesqueness  is  theatrical.  No  scene  pain- 
ter could  cluster  and  pile  up  palaces,  gardens  and  spires,  with 
more  daring  extravagance.  The  abundant  quarries  of  free- 
stone in  the  neighborhood,  have  furnished  all  their  buiding  ma- 
terials, and  every  house  that  is  not  beautifully  antique,  is  of  or- 
namental architecture.  I  saw  one  or  two  beggars,  but  I  did 
not  see  where  they  could  live.  Splendid  squares,  crescents, 
terraces  and  colonades,  monopolize  the  town. 

We  made  straight  for  the  "  Pump-Eoom,"  of  course.  It 
lies  behind  a  prodigally  Gothic  abbey,  (one  of  the  most  ornate 
and  beautiful  specimens  of  the  Gothic  I  ever  saw,)  and  with  a 
large  paved  court  before  it,  surrounded  by  shops.  It  is  merely 
one  large  room  in  a  building,  which  is  one  of  a  block,  and 
though  it  was  doubtless  a  very  splendid  hall  when  first  built, 
it  is  now  outdone  by  the  saloons  of  common  theatres,  and  by 
the  "  refreshment  rooms"  of  railroad  stations.  A  semicircular 
counter  projects  from  the  wall  on  one  side,  studded  with  cake 
and  glasses  of  chalybeate  water,  a  large  mirror  hangs  opposite, 
and  the  recess  at  one  end  is  filled  with  seats  and  lounges  for 
rest  or  gossip.  Had  I  been  the  solitary  traveller  I  usually  am, 
r  should  have  sat  down  in  a  corner  and  "  put  the  screws"  to 
the  ghost  of  Beau  Nash  and  the  belles  of  his  brilliant  time 
and  circle — but  I  had  better  company  than  my  own  inagina- 
tion,  and  the  old  master  of  ceremonies  had  only  a  thought  sent 
after  him. 


LETTER     VI. 


London. 

I  could  copy  a  new  leaf  from  my  memory  that  would  be 
very  interesting  to  you,  for  I  dined  yesterday  in  a  party  of  ad- 
mirable talkers,  and  heard  much  that  I  shall  remember.  But, 
though  the  brilliant  people  themselves,  whose  conversation  we 
thus  record,  are  far  from  being  offended  at  the  record — the 
critics  (who  were  not  so  fortunate  as  to  be  there  too)  are  offen- 
ded/or them.  The  giving  the  talk  without  naming  the  talkers 
would  make  commonplace  of  it,  I  am  afraid,  just  as  taking 
the  wooden  labels  from  the  large  trees,  in  the  botanical  park 
at  Kew,  would  make  the  exotic  groves  look  indigenous — but 
we  must  submit  to  this  noisy  demand  of  the  critics  notwith- 
standing. In  a  world  where  one  might,  possibly,  have  a  reed 
fault  to  be  defended  for  by  his  friends,  it  is  a  pity  to  put  them 
to  the  trouble  of  defending  them/o?*  nothing  I 
[3641 


LETTER  VI.  355 


I  hear  much  said  of  two  of  our  countrymen  who  seem  to 
have  made  a  strong  impression  on  society  in  England.  Mr. 
Cohnan,  the  agriculturist,  is  one  of  them,  and  his  strong  good 
sense,  and  fresh  originality  of  mind  were  well  suited  to  be  rel- 
ished in  this  country.  The  other  is  a  gentleman  whose  pecu- 
liar talent  was  never  before  brought  to  its  best  market,  popular 
as  it  is  in  New  York — "  Major  Jack  Downing ;"  and  of  his 
power  as  a  raconteur,  I  hear  frequent  and  strong  expressions 
of  admiration.  This,  by  the  way,  and  similar  talents,  which 
are  only  used  for  the  enlivening  of  private  society,  are,  in  our 
country,  like  gold  ingots  at  ^he  mine — scarce  recognised  as 
value  till  brought  over  the  water  and  stamped.  I  know  more 
than  one  man  in  America  who  has  gifts  from  nature  that  would 
be  most  valuable  to  him  in  English  society,  and  are  of  no  value 
to  him  in  ours. 

To-night  is  Taglioni,'s  farewell  performance,  before  quitting 
the  stage,  and  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  go  and  see  her,  "  on 
her  last  legs,"  but  a  more  tempting  engagement  draws  me 
another  way.  I  saw  her  a  few  nights  since,  when  she  was 
doing  her  best  in  honor  of  the  approbation  of  the  King  of  the 
Netherlands.  It  was  in  the  new  ballet  of  "  Diana,"  but  though 
there  were  certainly  some  beautiful  overcomings  of  "  obedience 
to  the  centre  of  gravity,"  it  was  duli'd  in  the  memory  by  the 
dancing  of  Cerito  who  followed  her.  May  this  latter  dancer 
live  and  stay  pretty,  till  you  see  her,  my  dear  General ! 

The  presence  of  the  King  of  the  Netherlands  was  quite  an 
event  at  the  opera,  accustomed  as  are  stall  and  pit  to  royal 
company.  You  know,  that,  besides  being  a  king,  he  is  a  dis. 
tinguished  man — (better  known  as  the  Prince  of  Orange  who 
fought  in  the  English  army  at  Waterloo.)     He  looks  like  a 


366        FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


person  of  superior  talent.  His  face  is  cleanly  chiselled,  and 
his  eye  is  keen.  He  was  dressed  in  plain  clothes,  and  wore  a 
white  cravat,  and  had  the  air  of  a  high-bred  barrister,  or  of 
one  whose  constant  exercise  of  his  intellect  had  made  its  mark 
on  his  physiognomy.  He  was  received  first  in  the  box  of  the 
Pul^e  of  Cambridge,  all  the  ladies  in  the  box  standing  till  he 
was  seated.  The  Puke,  who  talks  very  loud,  and  who  makes 
the  audience  smile  several  times  every  evening,  with  some  re- 
mark audible  all  over  the  house,  kept  up  a  conversation  with 
him,  for  a  while,  and  His  Majesty  then  mt^de  a  visit  to  the  ad- 
joining box,  where  sat  the  superb  and  influential  Lady  Jersey, 
and  her  very  beautiful  daughter,  Lady  Clementina  Villiera. 
(You  have  seen  portraits  of  these  ladies  in  the  annuals.)  I 
did  not  envy  him  his  reception  in  the  first  box  very  particularly, 
though  one  would  like  very  well  to  "  see  how  it  feels"  to  be  a 
king— but  his  reception  in  the  second  box  seemed  a  heaven 
that  would  reward  one  for  a  great  deal  of  virtue, 

Lady  Morgan  was  present  in  widows'  weeds,  and  thereby 
very  much  improved  in  appearance — (as  many  women  are  !) 
I  had  not  seen  her  ladyship  for  five  or  six  years,  but  time 
seems  to  have  been  content  with  taking  away  Sir  Charles. 
She  looks  well  as  in  1840 — a  long  Uatu  quo!  She  had  with 
her  a  very  fascinating  niece,  and  a  very  large  bouquet. 

I  write  my  letters  so  hastily  that  I  digress  as  one  does  in 
conversation.  I  began  with  the  intention  of  telling  a  curious 
story  that  I  had  from  no  less  than  second  hand  touching  the 
King  of  the  Netherlands  and  the  Princess  Charlotte.  It  was 
told  me,  a  few  days  since  by  my  neighbor  at  dinner,  a  distin- 
guished person,  a  great  admirer  of  his  Majesty,  and  who  pre- 
faced it  with  a  wonder  at  the  caprice  of  taste.     The  Prince 


LETTER  VI.  357 


of  Orange,  as  is  well  known,  was  originally  chalked  ofif,  by  the 
"  high  contracting  powers,"  to  be  the  husband  of  the  lovely 
English  princess.  It  was  of  the  first  moment  to  him,  then, 
that  he  should  second  Destiny  in  its  kind  endeavors,  and  suc- 
ceed in  winning  her  royal  affections.  He  was,  however,  a' 
prince,  and  princes  in  those  days,  drank  hard.  He  had  the 
misfortune  to  come  in  tipsy  from  the  dinner-table,  when  rejoin- 
ing the  ladies  after  a  party  at  which  he  met  his  designated  fu- 
ture. The  Princess  took  an  invincible  dislike  to  him  on  that 
occasion.  The  lady  who  told  the  anecdote  (to  her  who  told  it 
to  me)  was  in  attendance  on  the  princess  when  the  prince 
called  upon  his  return  from  a  campaign  in  which  he  had  dis- 
tinguished himself  He  was  received  very  coldly.  His  uni- 
form was  a  red  coat  with  green  feathers  in  his  cap,  and  when 
he  took  his  leave,  the  princess  walked  to  the  window  to  see 
him  go  down  the  avenue.  "  Aha  !"  thought  the  lady  in  wait- 
ing ;  "  if  she  goes  to  look  after  him,  the  case  is  not  so  desper- 
ate, after  all !"  But  the  remark  of  the  princess,  as  she  looked 
at  his  red  coat  and  green  feathers,  undid  the  momentary 
illusion — "How  like  a  radish  he  looks!"  said  the  royal 
Chariotte.  A  lady  often  hates  the  man  she  loves,  but  she  sel- 
dom ridicules  him.  The  princess  was  resolute  in  her  aversion, 
and  the  "forked  radish"  (which  we  all  resemble  according  to 
Shakspeare)  was  superseded  by  Prince  Leopold. 

This  being  the  '  town-talk'  (as  is  the  Dutch  king  at  present) 
revives  all  the  defunct  anecdotes,  of  course,  and  greatness  has 
to  take  into  account  what  it  awakes,  besides  homage,  when  it 
makes  the  world  take  notice  of  its  existence  !  (Alas,  for  draw- 
backs !) 


LETTER     VII 


Tired  of  visiting,  dining  out,  and  endless  new  acquaintances, 
I  determined  yesterday,  to  encounter,  if  possible,  nobody  who 
would  need  to  be  spoken  to,  but  to  see  sights  all  day,  and  try 
what  mere  absorption  would  do  in  the  way  of  mental  refresh- 
ment. I  began  with  what  I  presume,  is  the  most  varied  show 
in  the  world,  the  Colosseum  in  the  Regent's  Park.  This  is 
such  an  aggregation  of  wonders  that  the  visitor  must  have  very 
small  compassion  not  to  be  sorry  for  everybody  who  has  not 
been  there,  and  very  large  confidence  in  his  powers  of  descrip- 
tion to  undertake  to  describe  it.  How  so  much  is  represented 
in  so  small  a  compass  is  as  puzzling  as  the  miracles  of  clair- 
voyance. If  one  were  conjured,  bodily,  indeed,  for  five  rain- 
[368] 


LETTER  VII. 


369 


utes  to  the  ruins  of  Athens,  the  next  five  minutes  left  lounging 
in  a  Moorish  palace,  then  dropped  into  Switzerland,  then  held 
in  an  angel's  lap  high  over  London — winding  up  with  a  wilder- 
ness of  galleries,  aviaries,  conservatories,  statuary  and  grottoes 
— it  would,  probably,  be  not  a  bit  more  astonishing  than  a 
visit  to  the  Colosseum,  and,  of  course,  not  near  so  agreeable. 
The  guide-book,  by  the  way,  with  drawings  of  everything, 
which  one  buys  for  a  shilling  at  the  door,  is  rather  graphically 
written,  and  an  extract  from  it  may  help  me  in  conveying  an 
idea  of  the  place  : — 

"  The  conservatories  are  elaborately  decorated  in  the  Ara- 
besque style.  In  the  centre  is  the  Gothic  aviary,  superbly 
fitted  up  with  gilt  carved  work  and  looking  glass,  such  as 
Isabella  of  Castile  might  be  supposed  to  have  constructed 
amidst  the  relics  of  a  Moorish  palace;  or  Abu-Abdallah,  with 
true  Arabian  gallantry,  to  have  conjured  up  for  the  solace  of 
some  fair  Christian  captive,  within  the  enchanted  halls  of  his 
own  Alhambra.  But  of  the  ingenious  and  tasteful  combina- 
tion of  Moorish  and  Gothic  architecture,  and  decoration  of 
this  spot,  amidst  the  murmur  of  sparkling  fountains,  the  songs 
of  gaily-plumed  birds,  and  the  fragrance  of  exotic  plants  and 
flowers,  may  transport  us  in  imagination  to  the  country  of  the 
Cid  and  the  borders  of  the  Xenil,  we  have  but  to  open  the 
glass  door  which  leads  to  the  exterior  promenade ;  and,  in  an 
instant,  the  still  more  picturesque  and  instructive  sight  of 
golden  pinnacles  and  eastern  domes,  springing  up  amongst  the 
marble  columns  and  mouldering  frescoes  of  ancient  Greece 
and  Eome,  wafts  us  at  once  to  the  banks  of  the  Bospborus 
or  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean.  In  these  days  of  steam-navi- 
gation, and  overland  journeys  to  India,  when  'Parman  flaneurs 


370  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


are  to  be  met  among  the  ruins  of  Carthage,  and  Bond  street 
loungers  in  the  great  desert  of  Sahara — when,  in  turning  a 
corner  of  the  great  pyramid  you  may  run  against  your  London 
friend  in  a  Chesterfield  wrapper,  or,  in  ascending  Mount 
Lebanon,  recognize  a  recent  partner  at  Almack's,  in  all  the 
glory  of  her  last  new  bonnet  from  Maradan's,  the  reality  of 
the  scene  before  us  is  nowise  impaired  by  the  modem 
European  costume  of  the  visitors,  and  we  may  sit  us  down 
upon  this  mossy  stone,  and  look  upon  them  as  the  latest  arri- 
vals by  "  the  Oriental,"  via  Malta  and  Alexandria,  or  by  the 
"Dampschiff"  from  Vienna  to  the  *' Golden  Horn."  It  is 
perhaps  more  than  half  an  hour  since  we  flew  from  the  top  of 
St.  Paul's  to  the  south  of  Spain,  to  the  shores  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean, to  the  verge  of  Christendom.  We  must  hurry  home 
by  the  shortest  cut — through  Switzerland — but  not  without 
halting  for  one  moment  to  gaze  from  the  windows  of  an  Alpine 
cottage  upon  the  never-trodden  snow,  and  the  hoar  glaciers  of 
Mont  Blanc.  We  enter  then  the  chalet,  or  Swiss  cottage, 
guided  by  the  roar  of  the  mountain  torrent,  which,  leaping 
over  the  nearest  rocks,  comes  thundering  down  the  precipices, 
and,  after  forming  a  small  lake  in  front  of  the  cottage  windows, 
overflows  its  stony  basin,  and  with  a  second  fall,  disappears  in 
the  gulf  below." 

This  flowery  naming-over  of  the  things  one  sees  at  the 
Colosseum  is  anything  but  adequate  to  the  reality — the  Swisa 
valley  (which  has  a  real  waterfall,  forty-feet  high,  and  a  rcai 
lake)  being,  particularly,  a  complete  illusion.  And  there  is 
Another  illusion  quite  as  complete,  which  you  would  scarcely 
think  possible — a  view  down  v/pon  London  by  night,  with  all 
the  streets  illuminated,  the  shop-windows  glittering,  the  mar- 


LETTER  VII.  ^i 


kets  crowded,  and  the  moon  shining  over  all !  I  could  not 
persuade  myself  that  part  of  it,  at  least,  was  not  a  bit  of  real 
London  let  in  to  the  view,  and  I  believed  in  the  moon  till  I 
had  seen  it  for  half  an  hour — just  such  a  one  being  really 
outside.  The  guide  book  says : — "  We  confidently  state, 
that  it  is  next  to  impossible  that  any  person  can  lean  over  the 
balustrade  for  five  or  six  minutes,  and  mark  the  fleecy  clouds 
sailing  steadily  along,  lighted  as  they  come  within  the  influence 
of  the  halo-encircled  moon,  which  has  just  emerged  from  the 
smoke  of  the  great  city,  and  then  fading  from  sight,  or  occa- 
sionally obscuring  the  stars  that  twinkle  here  and  there  in  the 
apparently  illimitable  space — we  say  it  is  next  to  impossible 
that  they  can,  after  such  contemplation,  recal  themselves  im- 
mediately to  the  conviction  that  the  scene  before  them  is  but 
an  illusion.  Add  to  this  the  reflection  of  the  innumerable 
lights  upon  the  bridges  in  the  river,  and  that  of  the  moon,  as 
the  flow  of  the  tide  occasionally  causes  the  ripple  to  catch  for 
a  moment,  again  to  be  lost  as  speedily,  the  silvery  beams  of 
the  rising  luminary,  the  brilliancy  of  the  shops  in  Cheapside, 
and  on  Ludgate  Hill — the  colored  lights  of  the  chemists  in  all 
directions — the  flaring  naked  gas  in  the  open  stalls  and  mar- 
kets— the  cold,  pale,  moonlight  on  the  windows  of  Christ 
Church  Hospital,  and  other  high  and  isolated  buildings,  and 
nothing  short  of  reality  can  equal  the  amazing  coup  d^odl  be- 
fore us." 

I  wanted  some  one  to  monosyllable -ize  to — (for  it  is  as  bad 
to  be  astonished  alone,  as  it  is  to  be  astonishingly  tired  of  peo- 
ple) but  with  this  one  lack,  the  morning  and  the  evening — 
(I  returned  in  the  evening,)  were  plenitudes  of  occupation.  I 
felt  afterwards,  and  feel  now,  as  if  I  had  been  to  the  far 


372  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


countries  represented,  and  up  in  air  and  down  in  caverns. 
Many  a  traveller  earns  the  right  really  to  wear  the  (^reen  tur- 
ban, whose  impressions  and  memories  are  less  worth  having. 

One  sight  I  saw^,  by  the  way,  that  was  not  "  down  on  the 
bill."  The  centre  of  the  Colosseum  is  occupied  by  a  circular 
gallery,  carpeted  and  filled  with  lounges,  and  in  many  respects 
luxurious,  besides  exhibiting  an  admirable  collection  of  stat- 
uary. I  was  standing  before  a  bust  of  Mrs.  Norton,  (the 
poetess)  and  comparing  its  exquisite  chiselling  with  my  remem- 
brance of  her  beautiful  features,  when  a  party  of  ladies  with 
very  refined,  soft  voices,  approached  a  statue  near  by,  and  be- 
gan criticising  it.  An  instinctive  feeling  of  delicacy  forbad 
me  to  look  around,  at  first,  as  the  statue  was  the  rude  figure 
of  a  reclining  woman,  but  a  very  masculine  guttural  following 
a  critical  remark,  I  ventured  to  turn  my  heud  towards  the 
party.  Three  ladies,  dressed  with  the  most  respectable  ele- 
gance, one  elderly,  and  the  other  two,  apparently  her  daugh- 
ters, and  both  pretty,  stood  in  a  patronizing  tripod — surround- 
ing a  negro  !  It  was  a  lad  of  nineteen  or  twenty,  in  a  jacket 
and  trowsers,  entirely  black,  and  as  ugly  and  ill-shaped  a  negro 
as  you  could  easily  find.  His  hands  showed  that  he  had  been 
used  to  hard  work,  and  he  had  evidently  newly  arrived  in  Lon- 
don. The  ladies  were  making  a  pet  of  him.  One  caught  hold 
of  his  arm,  and  pointed  to  a  bust,  and  another  pulled  him  to 
see  a  statue,  and  they  were  evidently  enjoying  the  sights,  only 
through  his  astonishment.  The  figure  of  the  naked  saint, 
asleep,  with  the  cross  in  her  bosom,  did  not  seem  to  shock  the 
ladies,  but  did  seem  to  shock  the  negro.  These  ladies  Were 
probably  enthusiasts  in  anti-slavery,  and  had  got  a  protege  who 
was  interesting  as  having  been  a  slave.     At  least,  this  was  the 


LETTER  VII.  g73 


only  theory  I  could  build  to  account  for  their  excessive  inter- 
est in  him — but  one  need  not  be  an  American  to  wonder  at 
their  mode  of  amusing  him.  I  see,  daily,  blacks,  walking  with 
white  women,  and  occupying  s^ts  in  the  dress-circle  of  thea- 
tres, quite  unnoticed  by  the  English;  but  it  was  a  degree  too 
much  to  see  a  black  boy  in  a  fair  way  to  have  his  taste  cor- 
rupted by  white  ladies  ! 

There  is  a  superb  bust  of  D'Orsay's  father  in  this  collection 
— by  the  Count  himself  It  represents  a  magnificent  man. 
My  letter  is  getting  long. 


LETTER     VIII. 


There  is  little  need  of  widening  the  ditch  of  prejudice  over 
which  American  books  must  jump,  to  be  read  in  England,  but 
one  of  the  most  original  and  readable  books  ever  published  in 
our  country,  (Mr.  Poe's  Tales,)  "  is  fixed,"  for  the  present,  on 
the  nether  side  of  popularity,  by  the  use  of  a  single  Ameri- 
canism. The  word  bug,  which  with  us,  may  mean  an  honora- 
ble insect,  as  well  as  an  unclean  one,  is  hardly  nameable  in 
England,  to  ears  polite.  ThiB  first  story  opened  to,  in  Mr. 
Poe's  book,  is  "  The  Golden  Bug,"  and  the  publisher  informs 
me  that  his  English  brethren  of  the  craft  turn  their  backs  upon 
it  for  this  disqualification  only.     The  work  is  too  full  of  genius 

to  be  kept,  finally,  from  English  admiration,  but  a  word  on  the 
f374J 


LEITER  VIII. 


375 


first  page  which  makes  publishers  shut  the  book  without  look- 
ing farther,  will  retard  its  departure  from  the  shelf. 

And,  apropos — I  see  that  our  brilliant  contributor  *'  Fanny- 
Forrester,"  is  about  to  collect  her  stories,  letters,  etc.,  into  a 
volume.  You  will  remember  the  confidence  with  which  I 
hailed  the  advent  of  genius  in  the  first  letter  we  received  from 
this  now  well-known  pet  of  the  periodicals.  I  saw,  even  in 
that  hasty  production,  the  rare  quality  oi  playfulness  ever  con- 
stant to  good  sense — a  frolicsome  gayety  that  was  remembera- 
ble  for  its  wisdom  when  the  laugh  had  died  away.  The  play- 
fulness is  common  enough,  and  the  good  sense  is  common 
enough,  but  they  are  not  often  found  together;  and,  apart, 
they  form  the  two  large  classes  of  writers,  the  trivial  and  the 
heavy.  With  one  quality  to  relieve  the  other,  however,  as  is 
seen  in  all  the  productions  of  charming  "  Fanny  Forrester,"  a 
style  is  formed  which  is  eminently  captivating  to  the  casual 
reader,  and  therefore  the  very  best  for  a  contributor  to  peri- 
odicals. But  hers  is  a  style,  also,  the  charm  of  which  is  last- 
ing. For  the  thoughts  it  is  freighted  with,  are  from  one  of 
the  most  gifted  and  most  loveable  of  female  natures — thoughts 
first  schooled  by  heavenly  purity  and  tenderness,  and  then 
loosed  to  play  with  the  freedom  of  birds  on  the  wing.  I  take 
no  small  pride  in  having  been  the  first  to  pronounce  the  "  Eu- 
reka "  at  the  discovery  of  this  bright  star.  And  she  has  risen 
rapidly  in  the  literary  firmament,  for  it  is  but  a  year  since 
"  Fanny  Forrester  "  was  fir^t  heard  of,  through  our  columns, 
and  there  are  few  readers  now  in  our  wide  country  who  do 
not  know  her  well. 

I  have  been  shivering  about  town  to  day,  as  usual,  in  a 
greatcoat — scarce  having  seen  a  day  this  summer  when  I  was 


376 


FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


comfortable  without  it.  What  do  you  mean  by  keeping  the 
upper  end  of  the  thermometer  all  to  yourselves  ?  The  Eng- 
lish live  in  overcoats  and  under  umbrellas,  while  you  are  re- 
cording the  dropping  down  of  people  in  the  street  with  the 
heat  of  the  weather  !  Among  other  pastimes  I  went  over  the 
river  and  spent  a  chilly  hour  in  that  vast  village  of  wild  beasts 
and  birds,  the  Surrey  Zoological  Gardens.  It  is  enough  to 
give  one  the  heart  ache  to  see  the  many  shapes  of  the  agony 
of  imprisonment  undergone  within  these  pretty  shrubberies 
and  hedges.  The  expression  of  distress  by  all  manner  of  crea- 
tures except  monkeys,  is  so  painful,  that  I  wonder  it  should 
be  popular  as  a  place  of  resort  for  ladies.  But  there  they 
lounge  out  the  day  in  great  numbers,  feeding  the  elephants, 
tormenting  the  monkeys,  and  gazing  in  upon  the  howling 
bears,  tigers  and  lions,  as  if  the  poor  creatures  were  as  happy 
as  parlor  poodles.  I  saw,  by  the  way,  that  most  of  the  names 
upon  the  cages  had  the  word  America?!  before  them,  which 
helps  account  for  the  common  English  wonder  at  seeing  a 
white  man  from  New  York  !  I  was  very  glad  to  get  out  of 
the  "  Gardens !"  It  would  be  better  named  a  Hell  of  wild 
animals. 

I  see  the  dark  complexions  of  the  East  Indies  plentifully 
sprinkled  among  the  beggars  and  street  sweepers  in  London. 
People  in  turbans  and  Hindoo  coats  walk  in  the  crowd  unno- 
ticed. The  subjugated  nations  of  this  modern  Rome,  are 
represented  among  the  wretched,  though  half  the  globe  lies 
between  their  begging  place  and  their  home.  These  Asiatics 
arc  a  symmetrical  little  people  by  the  way,  and  their  graceful 
Oriental   touch   to   the   turban,  when    they  ask   alms,  looks 


LETTER  VIXf.  377 


strangely  out   of  place   amid   a   populace   of  such   angular 
rudeness. 

London  for  once,  really  looks  deserted.  It  is  often  said  to 
be,  when  there  is  very  little  sign  of  it  to  a  stranger's  eye. 
But  the  Queen's  trip  to  Germany  has  taken  off  an  unusual 
number  to  the  land  of  beer,  and  Bond-street  is  gloomy. 


LETTER     IX 


London  has  been  enshrouded  to-day  in  what  they  call  a 
*  blight"* — a  blanket-like  atmosphere  which  dulls  the  sun  with- 
out the  aid  of  clouds.  By  taking  the  pains  to  hold  yovr  arm 
close  to  your  eye,  on  days  like  this  you  find  it  covered  with 
small  insects,  and  the  trees,  in  the  course  of  a  week  will  show 
what  is  their  errand  from  the  morasses.  Why  these  leaf-eat- 
ers did  not  come  before,  or  why  they  did  not  stay  longer 
where  they  were,  seems  to  be  a  mystery,  even  to  the  news- 
papers. 

I  saw  a  new  combination  this  morning — a  whip  and  a  par- 
asol. A  lady  most  unhappily  plain,  (whose  impression,  how- 
ever, was  very  much  mollified  by  the  beautiful  equipage  she 
[3781 


LETTER  IX. 


379 


dr^ve,)  came  very  near  runniDg  me  down  at  the  crowded  cor- 
ner of  Oxford  and  Regent  streets.  She  was  driving  a  pair 
of  snow-white  ponies  at  a  famous  pace,  and,  as  she  laid  the 
lash  on  very  vigorously,  in  passing  me  by,  I  discovered  that 
the  whip  was  but  a  continuation  of  the  handle  of  the  parasol. — 
In  holding  up  the  protector  for  her  own  skin,  therefore,  she 
held  up  the  terror  of  the  skins  of  her  ponies !  It  was  like  so 
many  other  things  in  this  world,  that  I  went  on  my  way  moral- 
izing. 

It  should  be  recorded,  by  the  way,  that  though  one  sees 
good-looking  and  cleanly-dressed  women  trundling  wheelbar- 
rows in  the  streets  of  London,  one  sees  also  that  very  many  of 
the  equipages  of  pleasure  are  driven  by  ladies — the  usurpation 
covering  the  sunshiny  and  voluntary,  as  well  as  the  shady 
and  involuntary  extreme  of  masculine  pursuit.  It  really  does 
somewhat  modify  one's  ideas  of  the  fragile  sex,  however,  to 
see  some  hundreds  of  them  mounted  on  spirited  blood  horses 
every  day,  and  every  third  carriage  in  the  Park  driven  by  the 
fingers  that  we  are  taught  to  press  the  like  of,  so  very  lightly. 
How  far  this  near  blending  of  pursuits,  male  and  female,  adds 
to  the  sympathy  and  rationality  of  their  intercourse,  or  how 
far  it  breaks  down  the  barriers  that  enshrine  delicacy  and  ro- 
mance, are  questions  that  our  friend  Godey  should  settle  in 
the ''Lady's Book." 

One  does  not  very  often  see  Americans  in  London,  somehow, 
though  one  sees  them  by  hundreds  in  Paris  :  but  last  night,  I 
saw  one  or  two  distinguished  country  people  at  the  opera. 
Mr.  Bryant's  sachem-like  head  was  in  un-recognised  contact 
with  the  profane  miscellany  of  the  pit.  Mr.  Reed,  the  able 
Philadelphia  lawyer,  (who  made  the  capital  speech,  you  will 


380  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


remember,  at  the  dinner  of  the  Historical  Society  a  year  a*go) 
was  with  a  party  in  the  stalls.  Mr.  Golden  of  New  York  was 
present  also.  A  very  distinguished  looking  countryman  of 
ours,  as  well  as  a  very  distinguished  one,  by  the  way,  passed 
through  London  a  few  days  since  on  his  route  to  Vienna — 
Mr.  Stiles,  of  Greorgia,  who  was  lately  appointed  onr  Charge 
to  the  capital  of  Austria.  "With  this  gentleman,  I  was  delight- 
ed to  meet,  as  he  was  a  schoolboy  friend  whom  I  had  not  seen 
for  many  years,  and  for  the  pleasure  of  joining  him  at  Vienna, 
I  have  changed  my  plans,  and  given  up  my  proposed  winter- 
ing in  Paris.  Mr.  Stiles  was  kind  enough  to  confer  upon  me 
a  very  easily-given,  but,  at  the  same  time,  very  useful  addition 
to  my  passport,  since  as  a  Charge's  secretary  and  attache^  I 
may  defy  custom-houses  and  see  courts — privileges  denied  to 
Mr.'s  and  editors  !  I  shall  leave  London  soon,  and  zig-zag  it 
to  Austria,  visiting  the  intermediate  cities  in  the  centre  of 
Europe,  where  you  know  I  have  never  been,  and  in  the  police- 
ified  and  etiquettical  atmosphere  of  which  my  embroidered 
passport,  trifling  as  is  the  addition  to  it,  will  save  me  a  deal  of 
trouble.* 

To  return  once  more  to  the  subject  of  the  paragraph  pro- 
ceeding the  last : — I  have  often  remarked  another  interchange 
of  male  and  female  occupation,  which,  if  not  peculiar  to  Eng- 
land, is  at  least  different  from  the  habits  of  the  sexes  in  our 
country.  The  men^  of  the  middle  and  lower  classes,  sJiare 
freely  in  the  outdoors*  care  of  the  children.  Ten  minutes  ago, 
a  handsome  young  soldier,  a  private  of  the  Queen's  Guards — 

•  Of  this  and  the  opportunity  of  a  similar  appointment  by  Mr.  Wheaton; 
our  Minister  at  Berlin,  I  was  unable  to  avail  myself,  from  increasing  ill- 


LETTER  IX.  381 


an  elegant  fellow,  in  a  high  bear-skin  cap  and  full  uniform — 
passed  up  Kegent-street  before  my  window,  carrying  a  oaby 
in  his  arms,  very  leisurely,  and  not  at  all  remarked  by  the 
crowds  though  no  woman  accompanied  him.  He  was  proba- 
bly carrying  "  the  child"  home,  having  left  the  mother  to  shop 
or  gossip ;  but  what  one  of  your  private  soldiers,  my  dear 
General,  would  quietly  walk  up  Broadway  in  full  uniform,  with 
a  baby  in  his  arms?  You  could  not  take  a  walk  in  London, 
any  pleasant  day,  without  meeting  a  number  of  well-dressed 
men  drawing  children  in  basket  wagons.  They  sit  at  shop- 
doors  with  them  in  their  laps,  or  smoke  their  pipes  while  keep- 
ing the  cradle  going  behind  the  counter.  To  any  possibility 
of  ridicule  of  such  duties,  the  men  of  this  country  seem  wholly 
insensible.  In  this  and  some  other  matters  we  have  a  false 
pride  in  America,  which  is  both  peculiarly  American  and  pe- 
culiarly against  nature. 

And,  apropos  of  children — I  have  taken  some  vain  pains, 
the  last  day  or  two,  to  find  in  the  London  shops,  India- 
rubber  shoes  for  my  little  daughter.  This  article  and  sus- 
penders of  curled  India-rubber,  which  I  have  also  enquired 
for  in  vain,  are  two  out  of  many  varieties  of  this  particular 
manufacture  in  which  London  still  remains  to  be  civilized,  and 
for  that  step  in  civilization,  the  Queen  (whose  children  go  out 
in  all  weathers,  and  whose  husband  wears  suspenders,)  would 
probably  be  willing  to  thank  our  friend  Day  of  Maiden-lane. 
Most  of  the  uses  to  which  the  magical  king  of  Caoutchouc  has 
put  his  subject  gum,  would  be  novelties  in  England,  I  fancy, 
and  he  should  be  advised  to  set  up  a  branch  shop  in  Eegent 
street,  with  his  celebrated  portable  India-rubber  canoe  for  a 
sign. 


332  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

The  Morning  Post  states  that  Frederika  Bremer  is  on  her 
way  to  our  country.  If  ever  there  was  a  writer  who  sees 
things  as  every  one  wishes  to,  and  nobody  else  can — whose 
eyes  penetrate  just  to  the  right  depth  through  the  skin  of 
human  nature,  neither  too  much  nor  too  little — who  describes 
people  with  an  unequalled  novelty  and  just-enough-ness,  that 
is  to  say,  and  at  the  same  time,  invariably  betters  the  heart  of 
the  reader,  it  is  this  Swedish  authoress.  I  would  rather  see 
her  than  any  woman  living  whom  I  have  not  seen,  and  I  feel 
very  much  interested  that  our  country  should  cherish  her,  and 
show  her  its  appreciation  of  her  womanly  and  yet  wonderful 
genius. 

I  write  with  a  pen  keeping  tune  with  some  very  indifferent 
music  under  my  window.  My  lodgings  look  out  upon  Eegent 
street,  and  they  have  but  one  objection — the  neighborhood  of 
a  vender  of  beer  who  draws  customers  by  giving  some  manner 
or  other  of  music,  nightly,  in  front  of  his  shop.  It  is  now  ten 
o'clock,  and  six  musicians  are  posted  on  the  side-walk  who 
play  just  well  enough  to  entertain  a  street  crowd  of  two  or 
three  hundred  people — just  well  enough  to  bewitch  a  man's 
pen,  without  making  it  worth  his  while  to  stop  and  listen. 
They  are  just  now  murdering  the  incomparable  air  to  Mrs. 
Norton's  song  of"  Love  not,"  and,  to  one  who  has  ever  had 
his  tears  startled  with  it,  (as  who  has  not  ?)  it  is  a  desecration 
indeed.  But  what  a  tune  to  play  to  such  an  audience  !  The 
flaunting  guilt  that  nightly  parades  the  broad  sidewalks  of 
Regent-street  is  now  embodied  in  one  dense  crowd  listening 
attentively  to  the  bitter  caution  of  the  song  !  It  would  be 
curious  to  know  how  many  among  them  would  be  now  on  the 


LETTER  IX  383 


other  side  of  the  possibility  of  profiting  by  it,  had  thoy  been 
blessed  with  more  careful  example  and  education. 

I  went  on  Sunday  to  "  the  city,"  to  hear  the  poet  Croly 
preach  in  the  chapel  of  St.  Stephen's — a  small  church  adjoin- 
ing the  mansion  house  of  the  Lord  Mayor.  Of  Croly's  drama 
of "  Catahne"  and  of  his  poems,  I  am  (as  you  know  by  my 
frequent  quoting  from  them,)  a  very  great  admirer.  He  is  a 
fine  scholar,  and  a  man  of  naturally  a  most  dramatic  cast  of 
mind — all  his  poems  being  conceived  and  presented  to  the 
reader  with  invariable  stage  effect,  so  to  speak.  I  was  curious 
to  see  him — for,  to  begin  to  know  a  man,  mind-first^  is  like 
hving  in  a  house  without  having  ever  seen  the  outside  of  it. 
The  church  service  was  long — precisely  two  hours  and  a  quar- 
ter before  the  sermon — and  though  there  was  a  fine  picture  ot 
the  stoning  of  Stephen  over  the  altar,  and  tablets  to  the  mem- 
ory of  several  worthy  citizens  on  the  walls  and  columns  which 
it  was  profitable  to  read,  I  found  the  time  pass  heavily.  Mr. 
Croly  was  shown  into  the  pulpit  at  last.  He  is  a  tall  power- 
fully built  man  of  sixty — stern,  gray,  and  more  military  than 
clerical  in  his  look  and  manner.  His  voice,  too,  was  very 
much  more  suited  to  command  than  to  plead.  He  preaches 
extemporaneously,  and  he  took  the  chapter  from  the  morning 
service  for  his  subject — the  prophet's  triumph  over  the  pro- 
phets of  Baal.  His  sermon  lasted  half  an  hour,  and  it  was, 
entirely  and  only^  a  magnificent  painting  of  the  sublime  scene 
outlined  in  the  Bible.  It  was  done  in  admirable  language, 
and  altogether  like  a  scholar-poet  inspired  with  his  theme — 
(its  _poeir2/,  that  is  to  say) — but  very  little  like  most  efforts 
one  hears  in  the  pulpit.  When  he  had  pronounced  his  AmeU, 
I  suposed  he  had  only  laid  out  foreground  of  his  sermon.     In- 


384  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


cidentally  he  expressed  two  sentiments — one,  that  God  chose 
to  have  miracles  prayed  for,  even  when  they  were  certain  to 
come  to  pass,  having  been  predicted  by  Himself.  Second,  that 
ihe  popular  voice  (to  which  the  prophet  appealed  to  pass  judg- 
ment on  the  trial  between  the  Lord  and  Baal)  was  the  only 
true  test  of  everything  I  I  thought  this  last  rather  a  repub- 
lican sentiment  for  the  Lord  Mayor's  chapel. 

Dr.  Croly  would  have  made  a  modern  Peter  the  Hermit,  if 
a  new  crusade  were  to  be  preached  up,  but  he  is  little  likely 
to  load  much  faster  to  Heaven  than  they  would  otherwise  go, 
the  charity-school  of  girls  who  sit  in  the  broad  aisle  of  his 
chapel.     I  shall  return  to  my  ideal  of  him  as  a  poet. 


LETTER     X. 


If  the  water  in  Lake  George  were  turned  to  meadow,  and 
its  numberless  tall  islands  left  standing  as  hills,  it  would  be 
very  like  the  natural  scenery  from  Liege  to  Aix  la  Chapelle. 
The  railroad  follows  the  meadow  level,  and  pierces  these  little 
mountains  so  continually,  that  it  has  been  compared  to  a 
needle  passing  through  the  length  of  a  corkscrew.  Liege  was 
a  scene  of  Quentin  Durward,  you  will  remember,  and  at  present 
is  the  gunsmithery  of  Europe,  but  it  graces  the  lovely  scenery 
around  it,  as  a  blacksmith  in  his  apron  would  grace  a  ball- 
room, and  I  was  not  tempted  to  see  much  more  of  it  than  lay 
in  the  bottom  of  a  bowl  of  soup.  No  bones  of  Charles  the 
Bold,  promised  in  the  guide  book,  nor  tusk  nor  armour  of  the 
17  [385] 


386  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


"Wild  Boar  of  Ardennes."  Scott  was  never  here,  and  his 
descriptions  of  town  and  castle  were,  of  course,  imaginary. 

A  river  is  much  more  of  an  acquaintance  than  a  mountain, 
and  I  never  see  one  for  the  first  time,  without  a  mental  salu- 
tation, especially  if  I  have  heard  of  it  before.  The  Vesdre 
would  scarce  be  called  a  river  in  our  country,  but  it  is  a  lovely 
little  stream,  that  has  seen  a  world  of  romance,  what  with  love 
and  war,  and  it  runs  visibly  dark  from  the  closeness  of  the  hill- 
sides to  it.  and  with  a  more  musical  ripple  (if  you  please,)  for 
the  spirits  that  haunt  it.  We  got  but  a  glimpse  of  the  Meuse, 
crossing  it  at  Liege,  but  we  tracked  the  Vesdre  for  some  dis- 
tance by  railroad.  Of  course  it  quite  knocks  a  novel  on  the 
head  to  be  dragged  through  its  scenes  by  a  locomotive,  and 
if  you  care  much  for  Quentin  Durward,  you  had  better  not 
railroad  it,  from  Brussels  to  the  Rhine. 

We  were  stopped  an  hour  to  show  our  credentials  on  the 
frontier  of  Prussia,  and  here  (at  Aix  la  Chapelle)  I  had  in- 
tended to  make  a  day's  halt.  It  rained  in  torrents,  however. 
I  pulled  out  my  guide-book,  and  balanced  long  between  stay- 
ing dry  in  the  rail  cars,  and  going  wet  to  see  the  wonders 
Here  are  to  be  seen  the  swaddling-clothes  of  our  Saviour, 
the  robe  of  the  Virgin  Mary,  the  shroud  of  John  the  Baptist, 
some  of  the  manna  of  the  Israelites  in  the  wilderness,  a  lock 
of  the  Virgin's  hair,  and  the  leathern  girdle  of  the  Saviour. 
Here,  also,  is  to  be  «een  (with  more  certainty)  the  tomb  of 
Charlemagne.  The  church  towers,  which  cover  these  marvel- 
lous sights,  loomed  up  through  the  shower,  but  my  usual  phi- 
loeophy  of  "  making  the  most  of  to-day "  gave  way  for  once. 
Promising  myself  to  see  the  wonders  of  A\k  on  my  return,  I 


LETTER  X,  387 


ordered  my  baggage  into  the  cars,  and  rolled  away  through 
the  rain,  to  the  fragrant-named  city  of  Cologne. 

I  got  my  first  glimpse  of  the  Rhine  through  the  window  of 
an  omnibus.  From  so  prosaic  a  look-out,  I  may  be  excused 
for  remarking,  (what  I  might  not  have  done,  perhaps,  from 
the  embrasure  of  a  ruined  castle,)  that  it  was  a  very  ordi- 
nary looking  river,  with  low  banks,  and  of  about  the  breadth 
of  the  Susquehannah  at  Owego.  A  party  of  beer-drinkers, 
bearded  and  piped,  sitting  under  a  bower  of  dried  branches  in 
front  of  a  tavern,  were  all  that  I  could  see  at  the  moment  that 
looked  either  picturesque  or  poetical.  This  was  on  the  way 
from  the  rail-road  station  to  the  Hotel  at  Cologne.  As  it  was 
the  only  view  I  had  of  the  Rhine  that  does  not  compel  admi- 
ration, I  seize  the  opportunity  to  disparage  it. 

In  doing  the  curiosities  of  Cologne  with  a  guide  and  a  party, 
I  found  nothing  not  thrice  told  in  the  many  books.  Fortunately 
for  the  traveller,  things  newly  seen  are  quite  as  enjoyable, 
though  ever  so  far  gone  beyond  a  new  description.  I  relished 
exceedingly  my  ramble  through  the  narrow  streets,  and  over 
the  beautiful  cathedral,  and  I  puckered  ray  lips  with  due  won- 
der at  the  sight  of  the  bones  of  the  "  Eleven  Thousand  Vir- 
gins" in  the  Convent  of  St.  Ursula.  Alas,  that,  of  any  thing 
loveable,  such  relics  may  have  been  a  part !  There  was  no 
choice,  I  thought,  between  the  skulls — yet  there  must  have 
been  differences  of  beauty  in  the  flesh  that  covered  them. 

I  was  lucky  enough  to  bring  the  moonlight  and  my  eyes  to 
bear  on  the  cathedral  at  the  same  moment — the  half-filled 
horn  of  the  Queen  of  Stars  pouring  upon  the  fine  old  towers, 
a  light  of  beautiful  tenderness,  while  I  strolled  around 
them  once  more  in  the  evening.      The  cathedral  of  Cologne 


388        FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


looks,  indeed,  a  lovely  confusion.  And  quite  as  lovely,  I 
fancy,  to  eyes  that  have  no  knowledge  of  how  window  and 
pinnacle  put  their  Gothic  legs,  ultimately,  to  the  ground.  I 
believe  in  Gothic.  I  am  sure,  that  is  to  say,  that  these  inter- 
laced points  and  angles  have  a  harmony  in  which  lies  archi- 
tectural strength ;  and  with  this  unexamined  creed  in  my 
mind,  like  capital  in  bank,  I  give  to  impressions  of  beauty,  un- 
limited credit.  This  is  sometimes  the  kind  of  trust  with  which 
v^e  admire  poetry.  There  is  many  a  strain  of  Byron's,  learned 
by  heart  for  the  music  that  it  floats  with,  the  meaning  alone  of 
which  would  not  have  immortalized  it  for  a  nameless  poet. 

"The  castled  crag  of  Drachenfels," 

for  example.  The  noble  Cathedral  of  Cologne,  however, 
like  others  in  Germany,  stands  knee-deep  in  common  houses 
stuck  against  the  wall — a  pitiful  economy  that  makes  more 
of  a  blot  on  their  national  taste  than  all  the  "  cologne"  of 
"  Jean  Maria  Farina"  will  ever  wash  away.  And,  apropos,  it 
was  easier  to  forget  the  proper  sovereign  of  Cologne  than  the 
great  prince  of  essences,  and  I  stepped  into  his  shop  in  pass- 
ing, and  breathed  for  once  without  a  doubt,  the  atmosphere 
of  the  genuine  "  Farina."  It  was  a  great  warehouse  of  per- 
fume— boxes  and  baskets  piled  up  in  pyramids  of  sweetness 
— the  sight  of  so  much,  however,  most  effectually  overpower- 
ing my  desire  for  the  single  bottle.  Luxuries,  to  be  valu- 
able in  this  world  of  small  parcels,  should  be  guardedly  shown 
to  the  enjoyer. 

After  a  little  pondering  upon  the  Rhine  while  sitting  on  one 
of  the  stone  posts  of  the  wharf,  I  started  for  a  moonlight  ram- 
ble through  the  streets.     I  felt  somewhat  lonely  at  that  mo- 


LETTER  X. 


389 


ment—  in  a  city  of  80,000  inhabitants  without  a  soul  to  speak 
to — but  I  feel,  now^  as  if  there  was  a  link  of  music  between 
me  and  an  unknown  player  at  Cologne,  for  I  stood  under  a 
window  and  listened  to  what  seemed  an  improvisation  upon 
the  piano,  but  done  by  a  hand  that  sought  nothing  from  the 
instrument  but  melody  in  tune  with  sadness.  Commonly,  in 
listening  long  to  music,  one  has  to  suspend  his  heart  at  inter- 
vals, and  wait  for  a  return  to  the  chord  from  which  the  player 
has  w^andered  ;  but  in  the  varied  and  continuous  harmonies  of 
this  unseen  hand,  there,was  no  note  or  transition  for  which  my 
mood  was  not  instinctively  ready.  It  was  evidently  a  perfor- 
mer whose  fingers  syllabled  his  thoughts  in  music,  and  one, 
too,  who  had  no  listener  but  myself  The  street  was  still,  and 
all  around  seemed  to  be  buried  in  sleep,  not  a  light  to  be  seen, 
except  through  the  crack  of  the  shutters  which  concealed  the 
musician.  A  few  minutes  after  twelve  the  sounds  ceased  and 
the  light  departed,  but  the  music  was  apt  and  sweet  enough 
to4)e  remembered  as  an  angel's  ministration. 

The  day  that  had,  among  its  errands,  the  duty  of  showing 
me  the  Rhine,  made  its  obeisance  in  sober  grey,  a  half  hour 
before  sunrise.  I  arose  unwillingly,  as  one  does,  so  early, 
whatever  is  to  befal ;  but  the  steamer  was  to  start  at  6,  and 
steamers  are  punctual,  even  on  the  track  of  Childe  Harold. 
Following  my  baggage  to  the  water-side,  I  found  myself  on 
board  a  boat  which  would  hardly  pass  muster  as  a  ferry  boat 
to  Staten  Island — decks  wet,  seats  dirty,  and  all  hands,  appa- 
rently, smoking  pipe  while  the  passengers  came  on  board. 
Many  kinds  of  people  were  hurrying  over  the  plank,  however. 
A  young  man  who  chose  to  sit  in  his  travelling  carriage  while 
it  was  drawn  from  the  hotel  by  men's  hands,  atttracted  some 


390  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


notice,  and  it  was  soon  whispered  about  that  he  was  Prince 
Napoleon,  nephew  to  the  Emperor.  He  was  a  pale  discon- 
tented looking  youth,  apparently  twenty  two  or  twenty-five, 
and  his  servants  waited  on  him  with  an  impassive  doggedness 
of  servility,  that  made  its  comment  on  the  temper  of  the  mas- 
ter. The  cashmeres  thickened,  and  spurs  and  moustaches, 
students'  caps  and  pedestrians'  knapsacks,  soon  crowded  the 
decks  in  most  republican  condition.  I  looked  around,  of 
course,  in  the  hope  of  seeing  some  one  to  whom  I  could  say, 
of  the  beautiful  scenery,  "  how  beautiful,"  and,  as  my  fellow 
travellers  had  passed  under  my  eye,  I  had  mentally  ticketed 
them  as  one  generally  does — possible  acquaintances,  probable' 
or  impossible  And,  among  those  who  looked  to  jne  both  pos- 
sible and  desirable  acquaintances,  were  three  Englishmen, 
whose  manners  and  countenances  at  once  took  my  fancy,  and 
who,  on  exchanging  cards  with  me  at  night,  gave  me  names 
that  I  had  long  been  familiar  with — three  of  the  most  distin- 
gished  young  artists  of  England.  Somehow,  in  all  the  coun- 
tries where  I  have  travelled  and  made  chance  acquaintances, 
artists  have  been,  of  all  the  people  I  have  met,  the  most  at- 
tractive and  agreeable. 

I  was  taking  a  turn  on  the  wharf,  for  the  sake  of  a  few  min- 
utes of  dry  footing  before  the  boat  .should  draw  in  her  plank, 
when,  to  my  surprise,  I  heard  my  name,  with  a  feminine '  good 
morning,'  from  a  window  overhead.  Looking  up,  I  spied  a 
lady,  leaning  out  in  shawl  and  night-cap  and  smoking  a  cigar  ! 
I  immediately  recognised  her  as  a  handsome  person  whom  I 
had  chanced  to  sit  beside  at  a  table  cVhotc^  at  Brussels,  and 
who  had  the  enviable  gift  of  speaking  two  foreign  languages, 
French  and  English,  absolutely  as  well  as  her  own.     She  was 


L/ETTTER  X.  QQ1 


a  German.  From  the  soup  to  the  pudding  (two  thirds  of  a 
hotel-dinner)  I  had  supposed  I  was  listening  to  an  English 
woman,  and  as  we  had  French  and  Germans  at  table,  and  her 
German  husband  among  them,  her  accomplishments  as  a  prac- 
tical linguist  weie  put  to  the  test  and  remarked  upon.  She' 
certainly  presented  (to  the  rising  sun  and  me)  rather  a  start- 
ling tableau — on b  long  lock  of  hair  escaping  from  her  cap,  rib- 
bons flying,  etcezera — but  she  removed  her  cigar  so  carelessly 
for  the  convenience  of  smiling,  and  showed  so  little  thought  of 
caring  about  fie  impression  she  might  make  in  such  trying 
dishabille,  that  I  rather  admired  my  new  view  of  her,  on  the 
whole.  The  *  ime  show  from  the  window  of  the  Astor  hotel, 
in  Novr  ^f\^'ii>    ivouH  perhaps  be  thought  odd. 


L  E  T  T  E  R  XI. 


rO  ANY  LADY  SUBSCRIBER  WHO  MAY  WISH  FOR  GLEANINGS  FROM 
THAT  FIRST  CONCERT  OF  JENNY  LIND  WHICHTHE  CRITICS  OF  THE 
DAILY  PAPERS  HAVE  80  WELL  HARVESTED. 

Highland  Terrace,  Sept.  21,  1850. 

Dear  Madam — My  delight  at  Jenny  Lind's  First  Concert 
is  sandwiched  between  slices  of  rural  tranquillity — as  I  went 
to  town  for  that  only,  and  returned  the  next  day — so  that  I 
date  from  where  I  write,  and  treat  to  sidewalk  gossip  in  a 
letter  "  writ  by  the  running  brook."  Like  the  previous  "  Ru- 
ral Letters  "  of  this  series,  the  present  one  would  have  made 
no  special  call  on  your  attention,^  and  would  have  been  ad- 
dressed to  my  friend  and  partner — but,  as  he  accompanied  me 
to  the  concert,  I  could  not  with  propriety  write  fiim  the  news 
of  it,  and  I  therefore  address  myself,  without  intermediation, 
(392) 


JENNY  LIND.  393 


to  the  real  reader  for  whom  my  correspondence  is  of  course 
always  intended.  Not  at  all  sure  that  I  can  tell  you  anything 
new  about  the  one  topic  of  the  hour,  I  will,  at  least,  endeavor 
to  leave  out  what  has  been  most  dwelt  upon. 

On  the  road  to  town  there  seemed  to  be  but  one  subject  of 
conversation,  in  cars  and  steamers;  and  ''  Barnum,"  "  Jenny 
Lind,"  and  "  Castle  Garden,"  were  the  only  words  to  be  over- 
heard, either  from  passengers  around,  or  from  the  rabble  at 
platforms  and  landing  places.  The  oddity  of  it  lay  in  the  en- 
tire saturation  of  the  sea  of  public  mind — from  the  ooze  at  the 
bottom,  to  the  "  crest  of  the  rising  swell" — with  the  same  un- 
commercial, unpolitical,  and  un-sectarian  excitement.  When, 
before,  w^s  a  foreign  singer  the  only  theme  among  travellers 
and  baggage  porters,  ladies  and  loafers,  Irishmen  and  "  col- 
ored folks,"  rowdies  and  the  respectable  rich  ?  By  dint  of 
nothing  else,  and  constant  iteration  of  the  three  syllables 
"  Jenny  J^ind,"  it  seemed  to  me,  at  last,  as  if  the  wheels  of 
the  car  flew  round  with  it — "Jenny  Lind,"  "Jenny  Lind," 
"  Jenny  Lind"  in  tripping  or  drawling  syllables,  according  to 
the  velocity. 

The  doors  were  advertised  to  be  open  at  five  ;  and,  though 
it  was  thence  three  hours  to  the  beginning  of  the  concert,  we 
abridged  our  dinner  (your  other  servant,  the  song-king  and 
myself,)  and  took  omnibus  with  the  early  crowd  bound  down- 
wards. On  the  way,  I  saw  indications  of  a  counter  current — 
(private  carriages  with  fashionables  starting  for  their  evening 
drive  out  of  town,  and  several  ruling  dandies  of  the  hour 
strolling  up,  with  an  air  of  leisure  which  was  perfectly  ex- 
pressive of  no  part  in  the  excitement  of  the  evening) — and 
then  I  first  comprehended  that  there  might  possibly  be  a 
17* 


394  FAMOUS  PERSOr^rS  AND  PLACES. 

small  class  of  dinsenters.  As  we  were  in  time  to  see  the  as- 
sembling of  most  of  the  multitude  who  had  tickets,  it  occurred 
to  me  to  observe  the  proportion  uf  fashionables  among  them, 
and,  with  much  pains  taking,  and  the  aid  of  an  opera-glass,  I 
could  number  but  eleven.  Of  the  Five  Hundred  who  give 
"  the  ton,"  this  seemed  to  be  the  whole  representation  in  an 
audience  of  six  thousand — a  minority  I  was  sorry  to  see,  as 
an  angel  like  Jenny  Lind  may  well  touch  the  enthusiasm  of 
every  human  heart,  while,  as  a  matter  of  taste,  no  more  exqui- 
site feast  than  her  singing  was  ever  offered  to  the  refined. 
There  should,  properly,  have  been  no  class  in  New  York — at 
least  none  that  could  afford  the  price  of  attendance — that  was 
not  proportionately  represented  at  that  Concert.  'The  song- 
stress, herself,  as  is  easy  to  see,  prefers  to  be  the  "  People's 
choice,"  and  would  rather  sing  to  the  Fifty  Thousand  than  to 
the  Five  Hundred — but  she  touches  a  chord  that  should 
vibrate  far  deeper  than  the  distinctions  of  society,  and  I 
hope  yet  to  see  her  as  much  "  the  fashion"  as  "  the  popular 
rage"  in  our  republican  metropolis. 


Sept.  21,  1851 

Jenny's  first  coming  upon  the  stage  at  the  Concert  has 
been  described  by  every  critic.  Several  of  them  have  pro- 
nounced it  done  rather  awkwardly.  It  seemed  to  me,  how- 
ever, that  the  language  of  curtesies  was  never  before  so  va- 
ried— never  before  so  eloquently  effective.  She  expressed 
more  than  the  three  degrees  of  humility — profound,  profounder 


JEKNY  LIND  3^ 


profoundest — more  than  the  three  degrees  of  simplicity — sim- 
ple, simpler,  simplest.  In  the  impression  she  produced,  there 
was  conviction  of  the  superlative  of  both,  and  something  to 
spare.  Who,  of  the  spectators  that  remembered  Steifanoni's 
superb  indifference  to  the  public — (expressed  by  curtesies  just 
as  low  when  making  her  first  appearance  to  sing  the  very  solo 
that  Jenny  was  about  to  sing) — did  not  recognize,  at  Castle 
Garden,  that  night,  the  eloquent  inspiration  there  might  be, 
if  not  the  excessive  art,  in  a  curtsey  on  the  stage  ?  I  may  as 
well  record,  for  the  satisfaction  of  the  great  Good-as-you — 
(the  "  Casta  Diva"  of  our  country) — that  Jenny's  reverence  to 
this  our  divinity,  the  other  night,  was  not  practised  before 
Kings  and  Courts.  I  was  particularly  struck,  in  Germany, 
with  the  reluctant  civility  expressed  by  her  curtesies  to  the 
box  of  the  Sovereign  Grand  Duke,  and  to  the  audience  of  no- 
bles and  gamblers.  In  England,  when  the  Queen  was  pres- 
ent, it  seemed  to  me  that  Jenny  wished  to  convey,  in  her 
manner  of  acknowledging  the  applause  for  her  performance  of 
Lr  Somnambula,  that  her  profession  was  distasteful  to  her. 
In  both  these  instances,  there  was  certainly  great  reserve  in 
her  "  making  of  her  manners" — in  this  country  there  has,  as 
certainly,  been  none. 

The  opening  solo  of  "  Casta  Diva"  was  well  selected  to 
show  the  quality  of  Jenny  Lind's  voice,  though  the  dramatic 
effect  of  this  passage  of  Bellini's  opera  could  not  be  given  by 
a  voice  that  had  formed  itself  upon  her  life  and  character. 
Pure  invocation  to  the  Moon,  the  Norman  Deity,  as  the  two 
first  stanzas  are,  the  latter  half  of  the  solo  is  a  passionate 
prayer  of  the  erring  Priestess  to  her  unlawful  love ;  and,  to  be 
sung  truly,  must  be  sung  passionately,  and  with  the  cadences 


396  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


of  love  ana  sin.  On  Jenny's  lips,  the  devout  purity  and  im- 
ploring worship  and  contrition,  proper  to  the  stanzas  in  which 
the  Deity  is  addressed,  are  continued  throvghout ;  and  the 
Roman,  who  has  both  desecrated  and  been  faithless  to  her, 
is  besought  to  return  and  sin  again,  with  accents  of  sublimely 
unconscious  innocence.  To  those  who  listened  without  thought 
of  the  words,  it  was  a  delicious  melody,  and  the  voice  of  an 
angel — for,  in  its  pathetic  and  half  mournful  sweetness,  that 
passage,  on  such  a  voice,  goes  straight  to  the  least  expectant 
and  least  wakeful  fountain  of  tears — but  it  was  Jenny  Lind, 
and  not  Norma,  and  she  should  have  the  air  set  to  new  words 
or  to  an  affecting  and  elevated  passage  of  Scripture. 

And  it  strikes  me,  by  the  way,  as  a  little  wonderful — Jenny 
Lind  being  what  she  is,  and  the  religious  world  being  so  nu- 
merous— that  the  inspired  Swede,  in  giving  up  the  stage,  has 
not  gone  over  to  sacred  music  altogether.  It  would  have 
been  worthy  of  her,  as  well  as  abundantly  in  her  power,  to 
have  created  a  Sacred  Musical  Drama — or,  at  least,  so  much 
of  one,  as  the  singing  the  songs  of  Scripture,  in  costume  and 
character.  Had  the  divine  music  of  Casta  Diva,  the  other 
night,  for  instance,  been  the  Lamentation  of  the  Daughter  of 
Jeptha,  and  had  a  background  of  religious  reverence  given  to 
the  singer  its  strong  relief,  while  the  six  thousand  listeners 
were  gazing  with  moist  eyes  upon  her,  how  immeasurably 
would  not  the  effect  of  that  mere  Operatic  music  have  been 
heightened  !  "With  a  voice  and  skill  capable  of  almost  mirac- 
ulous personation,  and  with  a  character  of  her  own  which 
gives  her  the  sacredness  of  an  angel,  she  might  truly  "  carry 
the  world  away,"  were  the  music  but  equal  to   that  of  the 


JENNY  LIND.  397 


popular  operas.  Is  it  not  possible  to  originate  this  in  our 
country  ?  Witli  hundreds  of  thousands  of  religious  people 
ready  to  form  new  audiences,  when  she  has  sung  out  her 
worldly  music,  will  not  the  pure  hearted,  humble,  simple, 
saint-like  and  gifted  Jenny  commence  a  new  career  of  Sacred 
Music,  on  this  side  the  water  ?  Some  one  told  me,  once,  that 
he  had  heard  her  sing,  in  a  private  room,  that  beautiful  song, 
"  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth  !"  with  feeling  and  expres- 
sion such  as  be  had  never  before  thought  possible.  What  a 
field  for  a  composer  is  the  Bible  !  For  how  many  of  its  per- 
sonages— Mary,  Hagar,  Miriam,  Kuth — might  single  songs  be 
written,  that,  sung  in  the  costume  in  which  they  are  usually 
painted,  and  with  such  action  as  the  meaning  required,  would 
give  boundless  pleasure  to  the  religious  !  The  class  is  well 
worth  composing  for,  and  they  are  w^ell  worthy  of  the  service 
of  a  sequestrated  choir  of  the  world's  best  singers — of  whom 
Jenny  Lind  may  most  triumphantly  be  the  first. 

That  Jenny  Lind  sings  like  a  woman  with  no  weaknesses — 
that  there  is  plenty  of  soul  in  her  singing,  but  no  flesh  and 
blood — that  her  voice  expresses  more  tender  pity  than  tender 
passion,  and  more  guidance  in  the  right  way  than  sympathy 
with  liability  to  the  wrong — are  reasons,  I  think,  why  she 
should  compare  unfavorably  with  the  impassioned  sinners  of 
the  opera,  in  opera  scenes  and  characters.  Grisi  and  Steffa- 
noni  give  better  and  more  correct  representations  of  "  Nor- 
ma," both  musical  and  dramatic,  than  she — and  naturally 
enough.  It  is  w^onderful  how  differently  the  same  music  may 
be  correctly  sung ;  and  how  the  quality  of  the  voice — which 
is  inevitably  an  expression  of  the  natural  character  and  habits 


3^8 


FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


of  mind — makes  its  meaning !  It  is  one  of  the  most  interest- 
ing events  to  have  seen  Jenny  Lind  at  all — but,  her  character 
and  her  angelic  acts  apart,  a  woman  "  as  is  a  woman  "  may- 
better  sing  much  of  the  music  she  takes  from  operas. 

Of  the  "Flute  Song"  and  the  "Echo  Song"  the  papers 
have  said  enough,  and  I  will  save  what  else*!  have  to  say  of 
the  great-souled  maiden,  till  I  get  back  to  my  quarters  in  the 
city  and  have  heard  her  again. 

Pardon  the  gravity  of  my  letter,  dear  Madam,  and  believe 
me  Your  humble  servant. 


LETTER 

TO  THE  LADY-SUBSCRIBER  IN  THE  COUNTRY. 

Neio  York  Sept.  1850. 

One  prefers  to  write  to  those  for  whom  one  has  the  most  to 
tell,  and  I  have  an  ink-stand  full  of  gossip  about  the  great 
Jenny,  which,  though  it  might  hardly  be  news  to  those  who 
have  the  run  of  the  sidewalk,  may  possibly  be  interesting 
where  the  grass  grows.  Nothing  else  is  talked  of,  and  now 
and  then  a  thing  is  said  which  escapes  the  omniverous  traps 
of  the  daily  papers.  Upon  the  faint  chance  of  telling  you 
something  which  you  might  not  otherwise  hear  without 
coming  to  town,  I  put  my  inkstand  into  the  clairvoyant  state, 
and  choose  you  for  the  listener  with  whom  to  put  it  ''  in  com- 
munication." 

Jenny  has  an  imperfection — which  I  hasten  to  record.    That 

Bhe  might  turn  out  to  be   quite  too  perfect  for  human  sym- 
[399J 


400  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

pathy,  has  been  the  rock  ahead  in  her  navigation  of  popularity. 
"  Pretend  to  a  fault  if  you  haven't  one,"  says  a  shrewd  old 
writer,  "  for,  the  one  thing  the  world  never  forgives  is  per- 
fection." There  was  really  a  gloomy  probability  that  Jenny 
would  turn  out  to  be  that  hateful  monstrosity — a  woman 
without  a  fault — but  the  suspense  is  over.  She  cannot  mount 
on  horseback  without  a  chair  !  No  lady  who  is  common  place 
enough  to  love,  and  marry,  and  give  her  money  to  her  hus- 
band, ever  climbed  more  awkwardly  into  a  side-saddle  than 
Jenny  Lind.  The  necessity  of  finding  something  in  which 
she  was  surpassed  by  somebody,  has  been  so  painfully  felt, 
*'  up  town,"  that  this  discovery  was  circulated,  within  an  hour 
after  it  was  observed,  to  every  corner  of  the  fashionable  part 
of  the  city.  She  occupies  the  private  wing  of  the  New- York 
Hotel,  on  the  more  secluded  side  of  Washington  Place,  and  a 
lady  eating  an  ice  at  the  confectioner's  opposite,  was  the  for- 
tunate witness  of  this  her  first  authenticated  human  weakness. 
Fly  she  may  !  (is  the  feeling  now,)  for,  to  birds  and  angels  it 
c<->mes  easy  enough — but  she  is  no  horsewoman  !  Fanny 
Kemble,  whom  we  know  to  be  human,  beats  her  at  that ! 

Another  liability  of  the  divine  Jenny  has  come  to  my  know- 
ledge, though  I  should  not  mention  it  as  a  weakness  without 
some  clearer  light  as  to  the  susceptibilities  of  the  angelic 
nature.  It  was  mentioned  to  a  lady  friend  of  mine,  that,  on 
reading  some  malicious  insinuations  as  to  the  motives  of  her 
charities,  published  a  few  days  since  in  one  of  the  daily  papers 
of  this  city,  she  w>ept  bitterly.  Now,  though  we  mourn  that 
the  world  holds  a  man  who  would  so  groundlessly  belie  the 
acts  of  a  ministering  angel,  there  is  still  a  certain  pleasure  in 
knowing  that  she,  too,  is  subject  to  tears.     We  love  her  more 


JENNY  LIND.  401 


— almost  as  much  more  as  if  tears  were  human  only — because 
injustice  can  reach  and  move  so  pure  a  creature,  as  it  can  us. 
God  forbid  that  such  sublime  benevolence,  as  this  munificent 
singing  girl's,  should  be  maligned  again — but  so  might  Christ's 
motive  in  raising  Lazrtus  have  been  misinterpreted,  and  v^^e 
can  scarce  regret  that  it  has  once  happened,  for,  we  know, 
now,  that  she  is  within  the  circle  in  which  we  feel  and  suffer. 
Sweet,  tearful  Jenny  !  She  is  one  of  us — God  bless  her  ! — 
subject  to  the  cruel  misinterpretation  of  the  vile,  and  with  a 
heart  in  her  angelic  bosom,  that,  like  other  human  hearts, 
needs  and  pleads  to  be  believed  in  ! 

I  made  one  of  the  seven  thousand  who  formed  hqj*  audience 
on  Saturday  night ;  and,  when  I  noticed  how  the  best  music 
she  gave  forth  during  the  evening  was  least  applauded — the 
Hon.  Public  evidently  not  knowing  the  difference  between 
Jenny  Lind's  singing  and  Mrs.  Bochsa  Bishop's,  nor  between 
Benedict's  composition  and  Bellini's — I  fell  to  musing  on  the 
secret  of  her  charm  over  four,  thousand  of  those  present — 
(allowing  one  thousand  to  be  appreciators  of  her  voice  and 
skill,  and  two  thousand  to  be  honest  lovers  of  her  goodness, 
and  the  remaining  four  thousand,  who  were  also  buyers  of 
five-dollar  tickets,  constituting  my  little  problem.) 

I  fancy,  the  great  charm  of  Jenny  Lind,  to  those  who  think 
little,  is,  that  she  stands  before  thern  as  an  angel  in  possession 
of  a  gift  which  is  usually  entrusted  only  to  sinners.  That 
God  has  not  made  her  a  wonderful  singer  and  there  left  her^ 
is  the  curious  exception  she  forms  to  common  human  allot- 
ment. To  give  away  more  money  in  charity  than  any  other 
mortal  and  still  be  the  first  of  prim  as  donnas  !  To  be  an 
irreproachably  modest  girl,  and  still  be  the  first  of  primas  don- 


402        FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

nas  !  To  he  humble,  simple,  genial,  and  unassuming,  and  still 
he  the  first  of  primas  donnas  !  To  have  begun  as  a  beggar-child, 
and  risen  to  receive  more  adulation  than  any  Queen,  and  stillbe 
the  first  of  primas  donuas  !  To  be  unquestionably  the  most  ad- 
mired and  distinguished  woman  on  earth,  doing  the  most 
good  and  exercising  the  most  power,  and  still  be  a  prima 
donna  that  can  be  applauded  and  encored  !  It  is  the  com- 
bination^  of  superiorities  and  interests,  that  makes  the  won- 
der— it  is  the  concentrating  of  the  stuff  for  half-a-dozen  hero- 
ines in  one  simple  girl,  and  that  girl  a  candidate 
for  applause — that  so  vehemently  stimulates  the  curiosity. 
We  are  ndt  sufficiently  aware,  I  have  long  thought,  that  the 
world  is  getting  tired  of  single-barrelled  greatness.  You 
must  be  two  things  or  more — a  revolver  of  genius — to  be 
much  thought  of,  now.  There  was  very  much  such  a  period 
in  Roman  history.  Nero  found  it  by  no  means  enough  to 
be  an  Emperor.  He  went  on  the  stage  as  a  singer.  With 
the  world  to  kill  if  he  chose,  he  must  also  have  the  world's 
willing  admiration.  He  slept  with  a  plate  of  lead  on  his 
stomach,  abstained  from  all  fruits  and  other  food  that  would 
affect  his  voice,  poisoned  Britannicus  because  he  sang  better 
than  himself,  and  was  more  delighted  when  encored  than 
when  crowned.  So  sighed  the  Emperor  Commodus  for  a 
two-story  place  in  history,  and  went  on  the  stage  as  a  dancer 
and  gladiator.  Does  any  one  suppose  that  Queen  Victoria 
has  not  envied  Jenny  Lind  ?  Does  Washington  Irving,  as 
he  sits  at  Sunnyside,  and  watches  the  sloops  beating  up 
against  the  wind,  feel  no  discontent  that  he  is  immortal 
only  on  one  tack  ?  No  !  no  !  And  it  is  in  America  that  the 
atmosphere  is  found  (Oh  prophetic  e  pluribus  unum  I)  for  this 


JENNY  LINB.  4^3 


plurality  of  greatness.  Europe,  in  bigotry  of  respect  for 
precedent,  forgets  what  the  times  may  be  ready  for.  * 
Jenny  Lind,  when  she  gets  to  the  prompt,  un-crusted  and  fore- 
shadowing West  of  this  country,  will  find  her  six-barrelled 
greatness  for  the  first  time  subject  to  a  single  trigger  of  ap- 
preciation. Queens  may  have  given  her  lap-dogs,  and  Kings 
may  have  clasped  bracelets  on  her  plump  arms,  but  she  will 
prize  more  the  admiration  fcrr  the  whole  of  her^  felt  here  by  a 
whole  people.  It  will  have  been  the  first  time  in  her  career,  (if 
one  may  speak  like  a  schoolmaster,)  that  the  heaven-written 
philactery  of  her  worth  will  have  been  read  without  stopping 
to  parse  it.  Never  before  has  she  received  homage  so  impul- 
sive and  universal — better  than  that,  indeed,  for  like  Le  Ver- 
rier's  planet,  she  was  recognised,  and  this  far-away  world  was 
vibrating  to  her  influence,  long  before  she  was  seen. 

One  wonders,  as  one  looks  upon  her  soft  eyes,  and  her  afiec- 
tionate  profusion  of  sunny  hair,  what  Jenny's  heart  can  be 
doing,  all  this  time  ?  Is  fame  a  substitute  for  the  tender  pas- 
sion ?  She  must  have  been  desperately  loved,  in  her  varied 
and  bright  path.  I  saw  a  student  at  Leipsic,  who,  after  mak- 
ing great  sacrifices  and  efibrts  to  get  a  ticket  to  her  last  con- 
cert at  that  place,  gave  it  away,  and  went  to  stroll  out  the 
evening  in  the  lonely  Eosenthal,  because  he  felt  his  happiness 
at  stake,  and  could  not  bear  the  fascination  that  she  exercised 
upon  him.  Or,  is  her  rocket  of  devotion  divided  up  into 
many  and  more  manageable  little  crackers  of  friendship  ? 
Even  that  most  impassioned  of  women.  Madam  George  Sand, 
says  : — "  Si  Von  rencontrait  une  amitie  parfaite  dans  toute  sa 
vie,  on  pour  rait  presque  se  passer  cTamour.^''  Do  the  devoted 
friendships,  that  Jenny  Lind  inspires,  make  love  seem  to  her 


404  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


but  like  the  performance,  to  one  listener,  of  a  concert,  the 
main  portion  of  whose  programnie  has  hitherto  been  suffi- 
cient for  so  many  ?  We  would  not  be  disrespectful  with, 
these  speculations.  To  see  such  a  heaven  as  her  heart  unten 
anted,  one  longs  to  write  its  advertisement  of"  To  Let."  Yet 
it  would  take  polygamy  to  match  her ;  for,  half  a-dozen  poets, 
two  Mexican  heroes,  several  dry-goods  merchants,  and  a  ris- 
ing politician,  would  hardly  "  boil  down  "  into  a  man  of  gifts 
enough  to  be  worthy  of  her.  The  truth  is,  that  all  "  institu- 
tions "  should  be  so  modified  as  not  to  interfere  with  the 
rights  of  the  world  at  large;  and,  matrimony  of  the  ordinary 
kind — (which  would  bestow  her  voice  like  a  sundial  in  a 
grave) — would  rob  the  Public  of  its  natural  property  in  Jenny 
Lind.  But  an  "  arrangement  "  could  be  managed  with  no 
unreasonable  impoverishment  of  her  husband  ;  for,  a  month 
of  her  time  being  equal  to  a  year  of  other  people's,  her  mar- 
riage contract  might  be  graduated  accordingly — eleven  months 
reserved  to  celibacy  and  fame.  It  is  a  "Procrustes  bed," 
which  cuts  all  love  of  the  same  length,  and  what  "  committee 
of  reference  "  would  not  award  a  twelfth  of  Jenny  Lind  as  an 
equivalent  consideration  for  the  whole  of  an  average  hus- 
band ? 

Doubting  whether  I  should  ever  venture  upon  so  delicate  a 
subject  again,  I  will  make  a  good  round  transgression  of  it, 
by  recording  &  little  bit  of  gossip,  to  show  you  that  the  fond 
Public  is  capable  of  its  little  jealousy,  like  other  lovers.  There 
is  a  Swedish  settlement  in  Michigan,  which,  on  Jenny's  arri- 
val, sent  a  committee  of  one — a  young  Swedish  officer  who 
had  given  up  his  epaulettes  for  the  plough — to  ask  a  contri- 
butioD  for  the  building  of  a  church.     Jenny  promptly  gave 


JENNY  LIND.  4Q5 


five  hundred  dollars,  and  the  deputation  was  very  contented 
with  that — but  added  the  trifling  request  for  a  doxology  in 
the  shape  of  a  Duguerreotype  of  the  donor.  Willing  as  a 
child  to  give  pleasure  to  the  good,  the  sweet  nightingale 
drove  straight  to  Brady's,  allowed  the  happy  sun  to  take 
her  portrait,  and  gave  it  to  her  countryman.  But  now 
comes  the  part  of  it  which  the  enamoured  Public  does  not 
like — for,  the  Committee  stays  on  !  Instead  of  going  home 
to  set  those  carpenters  to  work,  he  is  seen  waiting  to  help 
Jenny  into  her  carriage  after  the  concerts,  and,  in  the  com- 
ments made  upon  this,  his  looks  are  pulled  to  pieces  in  a  way 
that  shows  how  any  approach  to  a  monopoly  of  her  is  jealously 
resented.  Fancy  the  possibility  of  a  small  settlement  in  Mich- 
igan having  such  a  "  new  settler  "  as  Jenny  Lind ! 

There  is  an  indication  that  Providence  intended  this  re- 
markable woman  for  a  citizen  of  no  one  country,  in  the  pecu- 
liar talent  she  possesses  as  a  linguist.  A  gentleman  who  re- 
sided in  Germany  when  she  was  there,  told  me  yesterday  that 
one  of  the  delights  the  Germans  found,  in  her  singing  and  in 
her  society,  was  the  wonderful  beauty  of  her  pronunciation  of 
their  language.  It  was  a  common  remark  that  she  spoke  it 
"  better  than  a  German,"  for,  with  her  keen  perception  and 
fine  taste,  she  threw  out  the  local  abbreviations  and  corrup- 
tions of  the  familiar  dialect,  and,  with  her  mastery  of  sound, 
she  gave  every  syllable  its  just  fulness  and  proportion.  She 
is  perfect  mistress  of  French,  and  speaks  English  very  sweet- 
ly, every  day  making  rapid  advance  in  the  knowledge  of  it. 

Several  of  our  fashionable  people  are  preparing  to  give 
large  parties,  as  soon  as  the  fair  Swede  is  willing  to  honor 


406  FAMOUS  PBBSONS  AND  PLACES. 

them  with  her  company,  but  she  is  so  beset,  at  present,  that 
she  needs  the  invisible  ring  of  Gyges  even  to  get  a  look  at  the 
weather  without  having  "  an  audience  "  thrown  in.  She 
can  scarce  tell,  of  course,  what  civilities  to  accept,  or  who 
calls  to  honor  her  or  who  to  beg  charity,  but  her  unconquerable 
simplicity  and  directness  serve  to  evade  much  that  would  an- 
noy other  people. 


LETTER  XII. 

TO    THE    LADY    SUBSCRIBER    IN    THE    COUNTRY. 

Dear  Madam, — It  is  slender  picking  at  the  feast  of  news, 
after  the  Daily  Papers  have  had  their  fill,  and,  if  I  make  the 
most  of  a  trifle  that  I  find  here  or  there,  you  will  read 
with  reference  to  my  emergency.  Put  yourself  in  my  situa- 
tion, and  imagine  how  all  the  best  gossip  of  the  village  you 
live  in,  wOuld  be  used  up  before  you  had  any  chance  at  it,  if 
you  were  at  liberty  to  speak  but  once  in  seven  days  ! 

The  belated  Equinox  is  upon  us.  Jenny  Lind,  having  oc- 
casion for  fair  weather  when  she  was  here,  the  Sun  dismissed 
his  storm  train,  and  stepped  over  the  Equator  on  tiptoe,  leav- 
ing the  thunder  and  lightning  to  sweep  this  part  of  the  sky 
when  she  had  done  with  it.  She  left  for  Boston  and  the 
deferred  storm  followed  close  upon  her  departure,  doing  up 
(407) 


408  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

its  semi-annual  "  chore  "  with  unusual  energy.  The  cobwebs 
of  September  were  brushed  away  by  the  most  vivid  lightning, 
and  the  floor  of  heaven  was  well  washed  for  Jenny's  return. 
October  and  the  New  York  Hotel  are  now  ready  for  her. 

Pray  what  do  the  respectable  trees,  that  have  no  enthusi- 
asms, think  of  our  mania  for  Jenny  Lind  ?  The  maniacs 
here,  in  their  lucid  intervals,  moralize  on  themselves.  Ready 
as  they  are  to  receive  her  with  a  fresh  paroxysm  next  week, 
the  most  busy  question  of  this  week  is,  "  what  has  ailed  us  ?" 
I  trust  the  leisurely  observer  of"  The  Lorgnette"  is  watching 
this  analysis  of  a  crazy  metropolis  by  itself,  and  will  give  it 
us,  in  a  separate  number ;  for  it  will  describe  a  curious  stage 
of  the  formation  of  musical  taste  in  our  emulous  and  fast- 
growing  civilization.  I  think  I  can  discern  an  advanced  step 
in  the  taste  of  my  own  acquaintances,  showing  that  people 
learn  fast  by  the  effort  to  define  what  they  admire.  But,  of 
course,  there  is  great  difference  of  opinion.  The  fashionables 
and  foreigners  go  "  for  curiosity  "  to  the  Lind  Concerts,  but 
form  a  steady  faction  against  her  in  conversation.  The  two 
French  Editors  of  New  York,  and  the  English  Editor  of  the 
Albion — (unwilling,  perhaps,  to  let  young  and  fast  America 
promote  to  a  full  angel,  one  who  had  only  been  brevetted  an 
angel  in  their  older  and  slower  countries) — furnish  regular 
supplies  of  ammunition  to  the  opposition.  You  may  hear,  at 
present,  in  any  uptown  circle,  precisely  what  Jenny  Lind  is 
not — as  convincingly  as  the  enemies  of  the  flute  could  show 
you  that  it  was  neither  a  clarionet  nor  a  bass  viol,  neither  a 
trombone  nor  a  drum,  neither  a  fife,  a  fiddle,  nor  a  bassoon. 
The  only  embarrassment  her  dissecters  find,  is  in  reconciling 
the  round,  full,  substantial  body  of  her  voice,  with  their  decla- 


JENNY  LIND. 


409 


rations  that  she  soars  out  of  the  reach  of  ordinary  sympathy, 
and  is  aerially  incapable  of  expressing  the  passion  of  the 
every  day  human  heart.  "  She  sings  with  mere  organic  skill, 
and  without  soul,"  says  one,  while  another  proves  that  she 
sings  only  to  the  soul  and  not  at  all  to  the  body.  Between 
these  two  opposing  battledoors,  the  shuttlecock,  of  course, 
stays  where  Barnum  likes  to  see  it. 

The  private  life  of  the  great  Jenny  is  matter  of  almost  uni- 
versal inquisitiveness,  and  the  anecdotes  afloat,  of  her  eva- 
sions of  intrusion,  her  frank  receptions,  her  independence  and 
her  good  nature,  would  fill  a  volume.  She  is  so  hunted  that 
it  is  a  wonder  how  she  finds  time  to  remember  herself — ^yet 
that  she  invariably  does.  Nothing  one  hears  of  her  is  at  all 
out  of  character.  She  is  fearlessly  direct  and  simple  in  every 
thing.  Though  "  The  People"  are  not  impertinent,  the  bores 
w^ho  push  their  annoyances  under  cover  of  representing  this 
her  constituency,  are  grossly  impertinent ;  and  she  is  a  saga- 
cious judge  of  the  difference  between  them.  A  charming 
instance  of  this  occurred  just  before  she  left  Boston.  Let  me 
give  it  you,  with  a  mended  pen  and  a  new  paragraph. 

Jenny  was  at  home  one  morning,  but,  having  indispensable 
business  to  attend  to,  gave  directions  to  the  servants  to  admit 
no  visiters  whatever.  Waiters  and  maids  may  be  walked 
past,  however,  and  a  fat  lady  availed  herself  of  this  mechani- 
cal possibility,  and  entered  Jenny's  chamber,  declaring  that 
she  must  see  the  dear  creature  who  had  given  away  so  much 
money.  Her  reception  was  civilly  cold,  of  course,  but  she 
went  into  such  a  flood  of  tears,  after  throwing  her  arms  round 
Jenny's  neck,  that  the  nightingale's  heart  was  softened.  She 
pleaded  positive  occupation  for  the  moment,  but  said  that  she 


410  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES 


should  be  at  leisure  in  the  evening,  and  would  send  her  car- 
riage for  her  weeping  admirer  if  she  could  come  at  a  certain 
hour.  The  carriage  was  duly  sent,  but  it  brought,  not  only 
the  fat  lady,  but  three  more  female  admirers,  of  most  unprom- 
ising and  vulgar  exterior.  They  were  shewn  into  the  draw- 
ing-room, and,  in  a  few  minutes,  Jenny  entered  from  an  ad- 
joining room,  followed  by  half-a-dozen  professional  persons, 
with  whom  she  had  been  making  some  business  arrange- 
ments. 

"  How  is  this  ?"  said  the  simple  Swede,  looking  around  as 
she  got  into  the  room ;  "  here  are  four  ladies,  and  I  sent  for 
but  one !" 

They  commenced  an  apology  in  some  confusion. 

"  No,  ladies  !  no  !"  said  Jenny  ;  "  your  uninvited  presence 
here  is  an  intrusion.  I  cannot  send  you  away,  because  you 
have  no  escort ;  but  your  coming  is  an  impertinence,  and  I 
am  very  much  troubled  with  this  kind  of  thing." 

The  three  intruders  chose  to  remain,  however,  and  taking 
seats,  they  stayed  out  their  fat  friend's  visit — Jenny  taking 
no  further  notice  of  them  till  their  departure.  As  they  got 
up  to  go,  the  singer's  kind  heart  was  moved  again,  and  she 
partly  apologised  for  her  reception  of  them,  stating  how  her 
privacy  was  invaded  at  all  hours,  and  how  injurious  it  was  to 
her  profession  as  well  as  her  comfort.  And,  with  this  con- 
solation, she  sent  them  all  home  again  in  her  carriage. 

To  any  genuine  and  reasonable  approach,  Jenny  is  the  soul 
of  graciousness  and  kindness.  An  old  lady  of  eighty  sent  to 
her  the  other  day,  pleading  that  she  was  about  to  leave  town, 
and  that  her  age  and  infirmities  prevented  her  from  seeing 
MisB  Lind  in  public,  but  that  she  wishpd  the  privilege  of  ex- 


JENNY  LIND.  41 1 


pressing  her  admiration  of  her  character,  and  of  resting  her 
eyes  upon  one  so  good  and  gifted.  Jenny  immediately  sent 
for  her,  and,  asking  if  she  would  like  to  hear  her  sing,  sang  to 
her  for  an  hour  and  a  half,  with  the  simplicity  of  a  child  de- 
lighted to  give  pleasure.  It  is  the  mixture  of  this  undiminished 
freshness  and  ingenuousness,  with  her  unbending  indepen- 
dence and  tact  at  business,  which  show  this  remarkable  crea- 
ture's gifts  in  such  strong  relief  Nature,  who  usually  de- 
parts as  Art  and  Honours  come  in,  has  stayed  with  Jenny. 

Of  course,  the  city  is  full  of  discontented  stars  that  have 
been  forced  to  "  pale  their  intellectual  fires"  before  this  bright- 
er glory,  and  lecturers,  concert-singers,  primas-donnas  and 
dancers  are  waiting  the  setting  of  the  orb  of  Jenny  Lind.  We 
are  promised  all  sorts  of  novelties,  at  her  disappearance,  and 
of  those,  and  of  other  events  in  this  busy  capital,  I  will  duly 
write  you. 


THE    REQUESTED    LETTER 

(to  the  lady-reader  in  the  country.) 

New  York,  Nov.  — ,  1850. 

Dear  Madam, — Your  note,  of  some  weeks  since  request 
ing  "  a  more  particular  account  of  Jenny  Lind  as  a  woman," 
I  threw  aside,  at  first,  as  one  I  was  not  likely  to  have  the 
means  of  answering.  Overrun  as  she  is,  in  her  few  leisure 
moments,  by  numberless  visits  of  ceremony,  as  well  as  of  in- 
trusion and  impertinent  curiosity,  I  felt  unwilling  to  be  one 
of  the  unremembered  particulars  of  a  general  complimentary 
persecution,  and  had  givea  up  all  idea  of  seeing  Jenny  Lind 
except  over  the  heads  of  an  audience.  Fortunate  chance  has 
enabled  me  to  see  a  little  more  of  her  than  a  ticket  entitles 
one  to,  however,  and,  as  this  "  little  more"  rather  confirms 
and  explains  to  me  the  superiority  of  her  gifts,  I  may  be 
[4121 


JENNY  LIND.  4J3 


excused  for  putting  it  into  print  as  a  debt  due  from  herself  to 
her  celebrity. 

Jenny  Lind's  reception,  of  the  two  or  three  intellectual  men 
into  the  wake  of  whose  visit  I  had  been  accidentally  invited  to 
fall,  was  not  with  such  manners  as  would  be  learned  in  society. 
It  was  like  a  just  descended  spirit,  practising  politeness  for 
the  first  time,  but  with  perfect  intelligence  of  what  it  was 
meant  to  express.  The  freshness  and  sincerity  of  thoughts 
taken  as  they  rise — the  trustful  deference  due  a  stranger,  and 
yet  the  natural  cordiality  which  self  respect  could  well  afford 
— the  ease  of  one  who  had  nothing  to  learn  of  courtesy,  and 
yet  the  impulsive  eagerness  to  shape  word  and  manner  to  the 
want  of  the  moment — these,  which  would  seem  to  be  the  ele- 
ments of  a  simple  politeness,  were  all  there,  but  in  Jenny 
Lind,  notwithstanding,  they  composed  a  manner  that  was  al- 
together her  own.  A  strict  Lady  of  the  Court  might  have 
objected  to  the  frank  eagerness  with  which  she  seated  her 
company — like  a  school  girl  preparing  her  playfellows  for  a 
game  of  forfeits — but  it  was  charming  to  those  who  were 
made  at  home  by  it.  In  the  seating  of  herself,  in  the  posture 
of  attention  and  disposal  of  her  hands  and  dress — (small  lore 
sometimes  deeply  studied,  as  the  ladies  know  !) — she  evidently 
left  all  to  nature — the  thought  of  her  own  personal  appearance, 
apparently  never  once  entering  her  mind.  So  self-omitting 
a  manner,  indeed,  for  one  in  which  none  of  the  uses  of  polite- 
ness were  forgotten,  I  had  not  before  seen. 

In  the  conversation  of  this  visit  of  an  hour,  and  in  the  times 
that  I  have  subsequently  observed  Jenny  Lind's  intercourse 
with  other  minds,  I  was  powerfully  impressed  with  a  quality 
that  is  perhaps  the  key  to  her  character   and  her  success  in 


414  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

life — a  singularly  prompt  and  absolute  poiver  of  conce?itration. 
No  matter  what  the  subject,  the  "  burning-glass"  of  her  mind 
was  instantly  brought  to  a  focus  upon  it,  and  her  question  or 
comment,  the  moment  after,  sent  the  light  through  the  matter, 
with  a  clearness  that  a  lawyer  would  admire.  Although  con- 
versing iH  a  foreign  language,  she  comprehended  everything 
by  the  time  it  was  half  expressed,  and  her  occasional  antici- 
pation of  the  speaker's  meaning,  though  it  had  a  momentary 
look  of  abruptness,  were  invariably  the  mile-stones  ahead  at 
which  he  was  bound  to  arrive.  In  one  or  two  instances,  where 
the  topics  were  rather  more  abstract  than  is  common  in  a 
morning  call,  and  probably  altogether  new  to  her,  she 
summed  up  the  scope  and  bearing  of  them  with  a  graphic  sud- 
denness that  could  receive  its  impulse  from  nothing  but  genius. 
I  have  been  startled,  indeed,  with  this  true  swiftthoughted- 
ness  whenever  I  have  seen  her,  and  have  analyzed  it  after- 
wards, and  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that  the  same 
faculty,  exercised  through  a  pen,  would  be  the  inspiration  of 
genius.  Jenny  Lind,  I  venture  to  believe,  is  only  not  a  bril- 
liant writer,  because  circumstances  have  chained  her  to  the 
wheel  of  a  lesser  excellence.  Perhaps  a  vague  consciousness 
that  the  perfection  of  this  smaller  gift  wa«  not  the  destiny  of 
which  she  was  most  worthy,  prompted  the  devotion  of  its 
gains  to  the  mission  which  compensates  to  her  self  respect. 
Her  charities  are  given  out,  instead  of  thoughts  "  the  world 
would  not  willingly  let  die."  Blessings  are  returned,  instead 
of  a  fame  to  her.  She  moves  those  within  reach  of  her  voice, 
instead  of  covering  all  distance  with  the  magnetic  net-work 
which  will  electrify  while  the  world  lasts.  The  lesser  service 
to  mankind  is  paid  in  gold,  the  higher  in  immortalitv — but, 


JENNY  LIND. 


415 


fated  to  choose  the  lesser,  she  so  uses  the  gold  that  the  after- 
death  profit  will  be  made  up  to  her  in  heaven.  Jenny  Lind 
choosing  between  gold  by  her  voice  or  fame  by  her  pen,  has 
been  a  tableau  the  angels  have  watched  with  interest — I  fancy 
the  "  knockers"  would  rap  twice  to  affirm  ! 

But  I  doubt,  after  all,  whether  Sweden  has  yet  lost  the 
poetess  or  essayist  that  Song  has  thus  misled  or  hindered. 
She  says  very  frankly  that  she  shall  not  sing  much  longer — 
only  till  this  mission  of  benevolence  is  completed — and  what 
then  is  to  be  the  sphere  of  her  spirit  of  undying  activity  ? 
There  is  no  shelf  for  such  a  mind.  There  is  no  exhaustion 
for  the  youth  of  such  faculties.  I  am  told  she  has  a  wonder- 
ful memory,  and — for  one  work  alone — fancy  what  reminis- 
cences she  might  write  of  her  unprecedented  career  !  Having 
seen  everything  truthfully — estimated  persons  of  all  ranks 
profoundly — been  intimate  with  every  station  in  life,  from  the 
Queen's  to  the  cottager's — studied  human  allotment  behind 
its  closest  curtains,  and  received  more  homage  than  any  living 
being  of  her  time — what  a  book  of  Memories  Jenny  Lind  might 
give  us  !  If  she  were  to  throw  away  such  material,  it  seems 
to  me,  she  would  rob  the  eye  of  more  than  she  has  given  to 
the  ear. 

The  more  one  sees  of  Jenny  Lind,  the  more  one  is  puzzled 
as  to  her  countenance.  One's  sight,  in  her  presence,  does  not 
seem  to  act  with  its  usual  reliable  discretion.  Like  the  sinner 
who  "  went  to  scoff  and  remained  to  pray,"  the  eye  goes  to 
find  her  plain,  and  comes  back  with  a  report  of  her  exceed- 
ing beauty.  The  expression,  as  she  animates,  positively  alters 
the  lines ;  and  there  is  an  expansion  of  her  irregular  features 
to  a  noble  breadth  of  harmony,  at  times,  which,  had  Michael 


416        FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

Angelo  painted  her,  would  have  given  to  Art  one  of  its  richest 
types  of  female  loveliness.  Having  once  seen  this,  the 
enchantment  of  her  face  has  thrown  its  chain  over  you,  and 
you  watch  for  its  capricious  illuminations  with  an  eagerness 
not  excited  by  perpetual  beauty.  Of  course,  she  never  sees 
this  herself,  and  hence  her  evident  conviction  that  she  is  plain, 
and  the  careless  willingness  with  which  she  lets  painters  and 
Daguerreotypists  make  what  they  please  of  her.  I  noticed, 
by  the  way,  that  the  engraved  likenesses,  which  stick  in  every 
shop-window,  had  not  made  the  public  acquainted  with  her 
physiognomy,  for,  in  a  walk  of  two  or  three  miles  in  which  I 
had  the  happiness  of  bearing  her  company,  on  a  Sunday,  and 
when  the  streets  were  crowded  with  the  comers  from  church, 
there  was  no  sign  of  a  single  recognition  of  her.  It  seemed 
the  more  strange,  as  many  passed  who,  I  knew,  were  among 
her  worshippers,  and  any  one  of  whom  would  confidently 
give  a  description  of  her  features.  So  do  not  be  sure  that 
you  know  how  Jenny  Lind  looks,  even  when  you  have  seen 
her  Daguerreotypes  and  heard  her  sing. 

In  reading  over  what  I  have  hastily  written,  I  find  it 
expresses  what  has  grown  upon  me  with  seeing  and  hear* 
mg  the  great  Songstres  —  a  conviction  that  her  pre- 
sent wonderful  influence  is  but  the  forecast  shadow  of  a  differ- 
ent and  more  inspired  exercise  of  power  hereafter.  Her 
magnetism  is  not  all  from  a  voice  and  a  benevolent  heart. 
The  soul,  while  it  feels  her  pass,  recognizes  the  step  of  a  spirit 
of  tall  stature,  complete  and  unhalting  in  its  proportions. 
Wo  shall  yet  be  called  upon  to  admire  rarer  gifts  in  her  than 
her  voice.     Deference  and  honor  to  her,  meantime  1 

And  with  this  invocation,  I  will  close  I 


NATUEE  CEITICISED  BY  AET. 


JENNY  LIND'S  propitiatory  ACCEPTANCE  OF  ONE  INVITATION  FR03I 
NEW  YORK  FASHIONABLE  SOCIETY — THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  DAY  OF 
WHICH  IT  WAS  THE  EVENING HER  MARTYRDOM  BY  CHARITY-SEEK- 
ERS AND  OTHER  WANTERS  OF  MONEY  AND  GRATIFIERS  OF  THEIR  OWN 

IMPERTINENT  CURIOSITY THE  CRITICISM    OF    HER    MANNERS  AT  THE 

PARTY,  AS  GIVEN  IN  THE  '  COURIER  DES  ETATS  UNIS  ' A  COUNTER- 
PICTURE  OF  HER  CONVERSATION  AND  APPEARANCE — SINGULAR  ACCI- 
DENTAL '  TABLEAU  VIVANT,'  &C.  &C. 

The  stars  shine  by  the  light  their   elevation   still  enables 

them  to  receive  from   the  day  that   has  gone  past ;  and — 

though  there  would  be  a  severity  in  limiting  ordinary  belles 

to  shine  in  the  evening  only  according  to  the  lofty  position 

given  them  by  their  course  through   the  morning — it  is  but 

just  that  those  whose  mornings  so  lift  them  above   us  that 

they  would  shine  in  heaven  itself,  should  at  least  be  looked  up 
18* 


41  g  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


to  with  that  appreciating  deference,  which  we  give  more  to 
stars  than  to  lights  we  can  trim  and  brighten.  We  have  ex 
pressed,  in  this  sinnilitude,  why  a  late  severe  criticism  of  Jen- 
ny Lind's  manners  and  appearance  at  an  evening  party  in 
New  York  society,  seems  to  us  as  inappreciative  and  irrever- 
ent as  it  is  inaccordant  with  our  own  observation  of  w4iat  it 
describes.  Our  friend  M.  de  Trobriand,  who  wrote  it,  has, 
in  many  previous  articles,  expressed  the  same  national  pique 
and  national  want  of  sympathy  with  the  Northern  Songstress 
and  Benefactress.  She  has  refused  to  sing  in  Paris,  it  is  true. 
She  has  openly  avowed  her  distaste  for  French  custonis  and 
standards.  She  knew,  doubtless,  when  our  friend  was  pre- 
sented to  her,  that  he  was  a  Frenchman,  and  the  editor  of  a 
French  paper  which  had  invariably  disparaged  and  ridiculed 
her;  and,  when  he  spoke  to  her  in  three  languages,  (as  he 
did,)  and  she  answered  only  in  monosyllables,  (as  was  the 
case,)  he  could  (reasonably,  we  think)  have  attributed  it  to 
something  beside  dullness.  A  fashionable  belle  might  have 
put  aside  a  national  prejudice,  to  be  agreeable  to  an  elegant 
nobleman  brought  up  at  a  Court — but  it  would  have  been 
very  unlike  honest  and  simple  Jenny  Lind.  For  the  monb- 
syllables  to  our  friend  it  is  easy  to  account,  thus,  without 
blame  to  her.  For  those  she  gave  to  others,  there  is  still  a 
Detter  apology,  if  one  were  needed — but,  let  us  precede  what 
we  wish  to  say  of  this,  by  translating  the  passage  to  which 
we  are  replying  : — 

"  Jenny  I^ind  danced  very  little — but  once,  if  I  remember 
rightly,  and  without  evincing  any  of  that  ardor  of  movement 
which  people  had  pleased  themselves  by  gratuitously  accord- 


JENNY  LIND. 


419 


ing  to  her.  She  talked  as  little,  and,  take  it  altogether,  her 
celebrity  would  not  have  been  so  great,  if  her  singing  had 
been  as  disappointing  as  her  personal  appearance.  We  must 
be  excused  if  we  follow  her,  with  pen  in  hand,  even  into  the 
drawing-rooms,  where  she  found  herself  in  contact  with  a 
less  numerous  but  more  select,  and  if  we  put  upon  their  guard 
for  the  future,  those  who  believe,  upon  hearsay,  in  the  brilliant 
sayings,  the  enchanting  graces,  the  affable  reception  of  cour- 
tesies, etc.  etc.  of  Miss  I.ind,  as  seen  by  the  naked  eye,  and 
without  the  illusion  of  an  opera-glass.  When  she  ceases  to 
sing,  and  begins  to  converse,  the  celebrated  Swede  becomes 
extremely  national  again.  She  has,  in  her  voice,  but  two 
favorite  notes,  which  she  never  varies,  they  say,  but  for  the 
privileged,  and  to  which  she  adheres,  with  a  persistence  which 
ordinary  martyrs  cannot  break  through — and  these  t^wo  notes 
are  Yes  and  iVb." 

In  all  the  countries  where  she  has  been.  Miss  Lind  has  in- 
variably avoided  gay  and  fashionable  society,  dividing  what 
leisure  she  could  command,  between  a  few  friends  chosen 
with  reference  to  nothing  but  their  qualities  of  heart,  and  the 
visits  of  charity  to  institutions  or  individuals  she  could  benefit. 
Pleasure,  as  pursued  in  *'  the  first  society,"  seems  wholly  dis- 
tasteful to  her.  In  New  York,  however,  great  dissatisfaction 
had  been  expressed  at  her  refusals  of  invitations,  her  non-de- 
livery of  letters  of  introduction  which  were  known  to  have 
been  given  to  her  in  England,  and  her  inaccessibility  by  "  the 
first  people."  This  troubled  her,  for  she  feels  grateful  to  our 
country  for  the  love  poured  forth  to  her,  and  is  unwilling  to 
offend  any  class  of  its  citizens,  high  or  low%      From  a  lady, 


420  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


therefore,  with  whom  she  had  formed  a  very  intimate  and 
confiding  friendship,  she  accepted  an  invitation  to  an  evening 
party,  to  be  given  the  day  after  her  last  concert  in  this  city. 
It  was  at  this  party  that  M.  de  Trobriand  describes  her,  in 
the  article  from  which  we  have  quoted  above.  The  country 
villa  at  which  it  was  given  is  the  most  tasteful  and  sumptuous 
residence  in  the  neighborhood  of  New  York,  and  a  select  com- 
pany from  the  most  refined  circles  of  society  was  there  to 
meet  her.  Before  giving  our  own  impression  of  how  she  ap- 
peared at  this  party,  it  may  be,  not  only  just  but  instructive, 
to  tell  how  she  had  passed  the  day  of  which  this  was  the 
evening. 

It  was  the  morning  after  her  closing  Concert,  and  among 
the  business  to  be  attended  to,  (in  the  winding  up  of  a  visit  to 
a  city  where  she  had  given  away  $30,000  in  charity,)  was  the 
result  certified  to  in  the  following  report  : 

"  The  undersigned,  a  Committee  named  by  Miss  Lind  to  divide  the 
appropriation  of  the  sum  of  five  thousand  and  seventy-three  dollars  and 
twenty  cents,  [$5,073  20]  the  proceeds  of  the  Morning  Concert  recently 
given  by  that  lady  for  charitable  purposes,  have  distributed  the  said 
fund  as  follows : 

New  York.  Nov.  26, 1850. 

C.  S.  WOODHULL, 
R.  BAIRD, 
R.  B.  MINTURN, 
WM.  II.  ASPINWALL, 
JOHN  JAY. 
To  the  society  for  improvbg  the  condition  of  the  poor,  $1,000  00 

To  the  society  for  relief  of  widows  with  poor  children,  300  00 

To  the  Roman  Catholic  Orphan  Asylum,  300  00 


JENNY  LIND.  421 


To  the  Female  Assistance  Society,  300  00 

To  the  Eastern  Dispensary,  250  00 

To  the  Northern  Dispensary,  250  00 

To  the  Eye  and  Ear  Infirmary,  250  00 

To  the  Hebrew  Benevolent  Society,  200  00 

To  the  Home  Branch  of  the  Prison  Association,  200  00 

To  the  Home  for  destitute  children  of  Seamen,  200  00 
To  the  Institution  for  education  and  care  of  homeless  and 

destitute  boys,  100  00 
To  the  relief  of  poor  Swedes  and  Norwegians  in  the  city 

of  New  York,  per  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hedstrom,  273  20 
To  the  distribution  of  Swedish  Bibles  and  Testaments  in 

New  York,  200  00 

To  the  Brooklyn  Orphan  Asylum,  250  00 

To  the  relief  of  the  poor  of  Wilhamsburgh,  100  00 

To  the  relief  ofthe  poor  of  Newark,  100  00 

Tothereliefofthepoorof  Jersey  City,  100  00 
To  the  National  Temperance  Society,  ^200 ;  to  the  relief 
of  the  poor  at  the  Five  Points,  by  the  Temper- 
ance Association,  Rev.  Mr.  Pease,  President, 

^200  ;  to  the  American  Temperance  Union  ^100  500  00 

To  the  St.  George's  Society,  500  00 


Total,  ^5,073  20 

There  was  also  another  matter  which  formed  an  item  in  the 
'*  squaring  up"  of  the  New  York  accounts  on  that  day.  A 
paragraph  had  reached  her,  making  mention  of  a  Swedish 
sailor  who  had  perished  in  endeavoring  to  save  the  lives  of 
passengers,  on  the  wreck  of  a  vessel.  Jenny  Lind  had  sent 
to  the  Swedish  Consul  to  make  inquiries  whether  he  had  left 
a  family.     His  widow  and  children  were  found  by   Mr.  Ha- 


422        FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES 


bicht,  and  Jenny  had  sent  him  five  hundred  dollars  for  their 
use.  This  was  mentioned  by  the  Consul  to  a  lady,  who  men- 
tioned it  to  us,  and  by  this  chance  alone  it  becomes  public. 

But,  while  all  these  sufferers  were  receiving  her  bounty, 
and  she  was  settling  with  Banks  and  Managers  for  the  pay- 
ments— what  else  was  her  life  made  up  of,  on  that  day  ? 

It  was  half  past  nine  in  the  morning,  and  three  servants  of 
the  hotel,  and  two  of  her  own  servants,  had  been  ordered  to 
guard  her  rooms  till  she  could  eat  her  breakfast.  Well-dressed 
ladies  cannot  be  stopped  by  men  servants,  in  this  country,  how- 
ever, and  her  drawing-room  was  already  half  full  of  visiters  "  on 
particular  business,"  who  had  crowded  past,  insisting  on  en- 
trance. Most  of  them  were  applicants  for  charities,  some  for 
autographs,  some  to  offer  acquaintance,  but  none,  of  course, 
with  the  least  claim  whatever  on  her  pocket  or  her  time.  A 
lady-friend,  who  was  admitted  by  her  servant,  saw  the  on- 
slaught of  these  intruders,  as  she  rose  from  her  breakfast, — 
(fatigued  and  dispirited  as  she  always  is  after  the  effort  and 
nervous  excitement  of  a  concert) — and  this  friend  was  not  a 
little  astonished  at  her  humble  and  submissive  endurance. 

First  came  a  person  who  had  sent  a  musical  box  for  her  to 
look  at,  and,  as  "  she  had  kept  it,"  he  wanted  the  money  im- 
mediately. Jenny  knew  nothing  of  it,  but  the  maid  was 
called,  who  pointed  to  one  which  had  been  left  mysteriously 
in  the  room,  and  the  man  was  at  liberty  to  take  it  away,  but 
would  not  do  it,  of  course,  without  remonstrance  and  argu- 
ment. Then  advanced  the  lady-beggars,  who,  in  so  many  in- 
stances, have  "  put  the  screw  to  her"  in  the  same  way,  that, 
without  particularizing,  wo  must  describe  them  as  a  class.  To 
such  unexamined  and  unexpected  applications.  Miss  Lind  has 


JENNY  LIND.  423 


usually  oflfered  twenty  or  thirty  dollars,  as  the  shortest  way 
to  be  left  to  herself.  In  almost  every  instance,  she  has  had 
this  sum  returned  to  her,  with  some  reproachful  and  dispar- 
aging remark,  such  as — "  We  did  not  expect  this  pittance 
from  you  /"  "  We  have  been  mistaken  in  your  character, 
Madam,  for  we  had  heard  you  were  generous !"  "  This  from 
Miss  Lind,  is  too  little  to  accept,  and  not  worthy  of  you!" 
"  Excuse  us,  -we  came  for  a  donation,  not  for  alms !" — these 
and  similar  speeches,  of  which,  we  are  assured,  Jenny  Lind 
has  had  one  or  more  specimens,  every  day  of  her  visit  to  New 
York  !  With  one  or  two  such  visiters  on  the  morning  we 
speak  of,  were  mingled  applicants  for  musical  employment ; 
passionate  female  admirers  who  had  come  to  express  their 
raptures  to  her  ;  a  dozen  ladies  with  albums ;  one  or  two 
with  things  they  had  worked  for  her,  for  which,  by  unmistak- 
able tokens,  they  expected  diamond  rings  in  return ;  one  who 
had  come  indignantly  to  know  why  a  note  containing  a  poem 
had  not  been  answered ;  and  constant  messages,  meantime, 
from  those  who  had  professional  and  other  authorized  errands 
requiring  answers.  Letters  and  notes  came  in  at  the  rate  of 
one  every  other  minute. 

This  sort  of  *'  audience"  lasted,  at  Miss  Lind's  rooms,  all 
day.  To  use  her  own  expression,  she  was  •'  torn  in  pieces" — 
and  it  was  by  those  whom  nothing  would  keep  out.  A  police 
force  would  have  protected  her,  but,  while  she  habitually  de- 
clined the  calls  and  attentions  of  fashionable  society,  she  was 
in  constant  dread  of  driving  more  humble  claimants  from  her 
door.  She  submitted,  every  day^  to  the  visits  of  strangers,  as 
far  as  strength,  and  her  professional  duties,  would  any  way 
endure — but,  as  her  stay  in  a  place  drew  to  a  close,  the  pres' 


424  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


sure  became  bo  pertinacious  and  overwhelming  as  to  exceed 
what  may  be  borne  by  human  powers  of  attention,  human 
spirits  and  human  nerves.  Her  imperfect  acquaintance  with 
our  language,  of  course,  very  materially  increased  the  fatigue 
— ^few  people  speaking  simply  and  distinctly  enough  for  a  for- 
eigner, and  the  annoyance  of  answering  half- understood  re- 
marks from  strangers,  or  of  requesting  from  them  a  repetition 
of  a  question,  being  a  nervous  exercise,  for  six  or  eight  hours 
together,  which  the  reader  will  easily  allow  to  be  "  trying." 

But — though  we  have  thus  explained  how  there  were  ex- 
cuse enough  for  ever  so  monosyllabic  a  reception  of  introduc- 
tions, by  Jenny  Lind,  that  evening — our  own  impression  of 
her  address  and  manners  was  very  difterent  from  that  of  the 
gay  Baron.  Let  us  tell,  in  turn,  what  we  saw,  though  our 
discourse  is  getting  long,  and  though  our  rule  is  never  to  put 
private  society  into  print  except  as  hominy  comes  to  market — 
the  kernel  of  the  matter,  with  no  clue  to  the  stalk  that  bore 
it,  or  the  field  in  which  it  grew. 

The  party  was  at  a  most  lovely  villa,  ten  miles  from  town 
on  the  bank  of  the  Hudson,  and  the  invitations  were  to  an 
"  At  Home,  at  five  P.  M."  We  were  somewhat  late,  and 
were  told,  on  reaching  the  drawing-room,  that  Jenny  Lind 
had  just  danced  in  a  quadrille,  and  was  receiving  introductions 
in  a  deep  alcove  of  one  of  the  many  apartments  opening  from 
the  hall.  The  band  was  playing  delightfully  in  a  central 
passage  from  which  the  principal  rooms  radiated ;  and,  while 
the  dance  was  still  going  on  beyond,  and  the  guests  were 
rambling  about  in  the  labyrinths  of  apartments  crowded  with 
statuary,   pictures,   and   exotic    trees    laden  with  fruits  and 


JENNY  LIND. 


42r> 


flowers,  there  was  a  smaller  crowd  continually  renewed  at  the 
entrance  of  the  alcove  which  caged  the  beloved  Nightingale. 

Succeeding*,  after  a  while,  in  getting  near  her,  we  found  her 
seated  in  lively  conversation  with  a  circle  of  young  ladies,  and, 
(to  balance  M.  de  Trobriand's  account  of  her  monosyllabio* 
iucommunicativeness,)  we  may  venture  to  add,  that  she  re- 
ceived us  with  a  merry  inquiry  as  to  which  world  we  came 
from.  This  was  apropos  of  the  *'  spirit-knockings"  which  we 
had  accompanied  her  to  visit  a  few  days  before ;  and  a  re- 
marl*  of  her  own,  a  moment  or  two  after,  was  characteristic 
enough  to  be  also  worth  recording.  We  had  made  a  call  on 
the  same  "  Spirit"  since,  and  proceeded  to  tell  her  of  the  inter- 
view, and  of  a  question  we  asked  them  concerning  herself — 
her  love  of  fun  and  ready  wit  commenting  with  droll  interrup- 
tions as  the  narrative  went  on.  We  named  the  question  at 
last : — "  Has  Jenny  Lind  any  special  talent  which  she  would 
have  developed  but  for  the  chance  possession  of  a  remarkable 
voice  ;  and  if  so  what  is  it  ?" 

"  And  the  spirit  said  it  was  making  frocks  for  poor  little  chil- 
dren, I  suppose,"  was  her  immediate  anticipation  of  the  reply 
— uttered  with  an  expression  of  arch  earnestness,  which  con- 
firmed us  in  the  opinion  we  have  gradually  formed,  that  the 
love  of  the  comic  and  joyous  is  the  leading  quality  in  her  tem- 
perament. 

Miss  Lind  complained  repeatedly  of  great  exhaustion  and  fa- 
tigue, during  the  evening,  and,  (as  a  lady  remarked  who  had  seen 
her  frequently  in  private,)  looked  "  as  if  she  could  hardly  sus- 
tain herself  upon  her  feet."  During  the  time  that  we  remained 
near  her,  there  were  constant  introductions,  and  she  was  con- 
stantly  conversing  freely — though,  of  course,  when  three  or 


426  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  TLACES. 


four  were  listening  at  a  time,  there  must  have  been  some  who 
received  only  "  monosyllables"  of  reply.  We  noticed  one 
thing,  however,  which  we  had  noticed  before,  and  which  we 
safely  record  as  a  peculiarity  of  Miss  Lind's — perhaps  the 
*one  which  has  jarred  upon  the  Parisian  perceptions  of  our 
courtly  friend.  She  is  a  resolute  non-conformist  to  the  flattering 
deceptions  of  polite  society.  She  bandies  no  compliments. 
If  a  remark  is  made  which  has  no  rebound  to  it,  she  drops  it 
with  a  '*  monosyllable,"  and  without  gracing  its  downfall  with 
an  insincere  smile.  She  affects  no  interest  which  she  does 
not  feel — puts  an  abrupt  end  to  a  conversation  which  could 
only  be  sustained  by  mutual  pretence  of  something  to  say — 
differs  suddenly  and  uncompromisingly  when  her  sense  of 
truth  prompts  her  so  to  do — repels,  (instead  of  even  listening 
silently  to,)  complimentary  speeches — in  fact  is,  at  all  times, 
so  courageously  and  pertinaciously  honest  and  simple,  that 
"  society,"  as  carried  on  in  "  the  first  circles,"  is  no  atmosphere 
for  her.  If  she  were  an  angel  in  disguise  on  a  mission  to 
this  world,  (which  we  are  by  no  means  sure  she  is  not,)  we 
should  expect  the  elegant  M.  de  Trobriand — Vhomme  comme  il 
fautj  belonging  to  a  Court  of  Exiled  Royalty — to  describe 
her  precisely  as  he  does. 

But  our  friend  has  written  one  more  sentence,  against  which 
he  must  put  a  tableau  en  visa-vis.  He  says  : — "  Her  celebrity 
would  not  have  been  what  it  is,  very  certainly,  if  her  singing 
bad  ever  produced  as  much  disappointment  as  her  personal 
appearance.  Let  us  conclude  this  very  long  discourse,  (which 
we  hope  our  friends  have  Niblo-fied  with  a  "  half  hour  for  re- 
freshment" at  some  convenient  betweenity,)  with  a  picture  of 


JENNY  LIND.  43? 


Jenny  Lind,  as  we  saw  her,  a  few  minutes  before  she  took 
leave,  on  the  evening  of  the  party  : — 

The  dancing  and  drawing-rooms  were  deserted,  and  the 
company  were  at  supper.  Miss  Lind,  too  tired  to  stand  up 
with  the  crowd,  had  been  waited  on  by  one  of  the  gentlemen 
of  the  family,  and  now  sat,  in  one  of  the  deep  alcoves  of  the 
saloon  farthest  removed  from  the  gay  scene,  with  one  of  the 
trelliced  windows,  which  look  out  upon  the  park,  forming  a 
.background  to  her  figure.  We  sought  her  to  make  our  adieux, 
presuming  we  should  not  see  her  again  before  her  departure 
for  the  South,  and  chance  presented  her  to  our  eye  with  a 
combination  of  effect  that  we  shall  remember,  certainly,  till 
the  dawn  of  another  light  throws  a  twilight  over  this.  An 
intimate  friend,  with  kind  attentiveness,  was  rather  preserving 
her  from  interruption  than  talking  with  her,  and  she  sat  in  a 
posture  of  careless  and  graceful  repose,  with  her  head  wearily 
bent  on  one  side,  her  eyes  drooped,  and  her  hands  crossed 
before  her  in  the  characteristic  habit  which  has  been  seized  by 
the  painters  who  have  drawn  her.  There  was  an  expression 
of  dismissed  care  replaced  by  a  kind  of  child-like  and  innocent 
sadness,  that  struck  us  as  inexpressibly  sweet — which  we 
mentally  treasured  away,  at  the  time,  as  another  of  the  phases 
of  excessive  beauty  of  which  that  strong  face  is  capable — and, 
as  we  looked  at  her,  there  suddenly  appeared,  through 
the  window  behind,  half  concealed  by  her  shoulder, 
the  golden  edge  of  the  just  risen  moon.  It  crept  to  her  cheek, 
before  she  had  changed  the  attitude  in  which  she  indolently 
listened  to  her  friend,  and,  for  a  moment,  the  tableau  was 
complete,  (to  our  own  eye  as  we  stood  motionless) — of  a  droop- 
ing head  pillowed  on  the  bosom  of  the  Queen  of  Night.     It 


428        FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


was  so  startling,  and  at  the  same  time  so  apt  and  so  consistent, 
that,  for  an  instant,  it  confused  our  thoughts,  as  the  wonders 
of  fairy  transitions  confuse  realities  in  the  perceptions  of  a 
child — but  the  taking  of  a  step  forward  disturbed  the  tableau, 
and  we  could,  then,  only  call  her  own  attention  and  that  of 
one  or  two  gentlemen  who  had  come  up,  to  the  bright  orb 
hfting  behind  her.  The  moment  after,  she  had  said  good- 
night, and  was  gone — little  dreaming,  in  her  weary  brain, 
that  she  had  been  made  part,  by  Nature,  at  one  of  the 
fatigued  instants  just  past  in  a  picture — than  which  an  angel, 
tnoughtfully  reposing  in  heaven,  could  scarce  have  been  more 
beautiful. 

Parts  of  the  foregoing,  of  course,  we  should  never  have 
unlocked  from  our  casket  of  memories,  but  as  a  counter* 
balance  to  different  impressions  of  the  same  admired  object, 
recorded  by  a  pen  we  are  fond  of  There  is  another  purpose 
that  portions  of  the  article  may  serve,  however — the  making 
the  Public  aware  how  pretended  charity-seekers,  and  intrusive 
visitors,  persecute  and  weary  the  noble  creature  who  is  now 
sojourning  in  the  country,  and  the  showing  through  how 
much  diflficulty  and  hinderance  she  accomplishes  her  work. 
We  would  aid,  if  we  could,  in  having  her  rightly  understood 
while  she  is  among  us. 


J  ENN  Y   LIND. 


An  engraving  ordered  upon  the  inside  of  a  wedding  ring— 
Otto  Goldschmidt  to  Jenny  Lind — gave  the  news  of  a  certain 
event  to  "Ball,  Tompkins  &  Black,"  a  week  before  it  was  tele- 
graphed to  the  papers.  Jewellers  keep  secrets.  The  ring 
went  to  its  destiny,  unwhispered  of  Its  spring — for  it  is 
fastened  with  a  spring — has  closed  over  the  blue  vein  that  has 
80  oft  carried  to  that  third  finger  the  news  of  the  heart's  refu- 
sal to  surrender.  Jenny  Lind  loves.  She  who  filled  more 
place  in  the  world's  knowledge  and  attention  than  Sweden 
itself — the  Swede  greater  than  Sweden — has  acknowledged 
"  the  small,  sweet  need  of  woman  to  be  loved."  Her  star- 
name,  which  she  had  spent  half  a  life,  with  energy  unequalled, 

(429) 


430 


FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


in  placing  bright  and  alone  in  the  heaven  of  renown,  is  merged 
after  all  in  the  Via  Lactea  of  common  humanity.  ''Jenny 
Lind"  is  a  wife. 

A  year  or  more  ago,  J  enny  Lind  stood  by  the  cradle  of  a 
sleeping  and  beautiful  infant.  She  looked  at  it,  long  and 
thoughtfully,  stooped  and  kissed  its  heel  and  the  back  of  its 
neck,  (the  Swedish  geography,  we  believe,  for  a  kiss  with  a 
blessing  to  a  child)  and,  turning  to  its  mother,  said,  with  a 
deep  sigh,  "  You  have  something  to  live  for  1"  She  was,  at 
this  time,  in  the  busiest  tumult  of  a  welcome  by  half  a  world. 
Her  ambition — so  athirst  from  the  first  dawn  of  her  mind  that 
it  seemed  to  have  absorbed  her  entire  being — had  a  full  cup 
at  its  lips.  She  was,  with  unblemished  repute,  the  most  re- 
nowned of  living  women,  and  with  the  fortune  and  moral 
power  of  a  queen.  Yet,  up  from  the  heart  under  it  all — a  heart 
50  deep  down  under  pyramids  of  golden  laurels — the  outer- 
most approach  to  which  was  apparently  hidden  in  clouds  of 
incense — comes  a  sigh  over  the  cradle  offa  child  ! 

At  one  of  the  concerts  of  Jenny  Lind,  at  Tripler  Hall — we 
forget  just  how  long  ago — a  newly  arrived  pianist  made  his 
first  appearance.  There  was  little  curiosity  about  him.  The 
songstress,  whom  the  thousands  present  had  goue  only  to 
hear,  sang — lifting  all  hearts  idto  the  air  she  stirred,  to  drop 
back  with  an  eternal  memory  of  her,  when  she  ceased.  And 
then  came  —  according  to  programme — "  Herr  Otto  Gold- 
schmidt."  He  played,  and  the  best-educated  musical  critic 
in  New- York  said  to  a  lady  sitting  beside  him,  "  The  audience 
don't  know  what  playing  that  is !"  But  the  audience  had 
another  object  for  their  attention.  The  side  door  of  the  stage 
had  opened,   and  Jenny  Lind,  breaking  through  her  accus- 


JENNY  LIND.  43 1 


tomed  rule  of  reserving  her  personal  presence  tor  her  own 
performances,  stood  in  full  view  as  a  listener.  The  eyes  of 
the  audience  were  on  her,  but  hers  were  on  the  player.  She 
listened  with  absorbed  attention,  nodding  approbation  at  the 
points  of  artistic  achievement,  and,  when  he  closed,  (four  thou- 
sand people  will  remember  it,)  she  took  a  step  forward  upon 
the  stage,  and  beat  her  gloved  hands  together  with  enthusi- 
asm unbounded.  The  audience  put  it  down  to  her  generous 
sympathy  for  a  modest  young  stranger ;  and  so,  perhaps  did 
the  recording  angel — with  a  prophetic  smile  ! 

We  are  sorry  we  can  give  our  far-away  readers  no  assist- 
ance in  their  efiforts  to  form  an  idea  of  the  Nightingale's  mate. 
Ladies  are  good  observers,  and  one  who  remembers  to  have 
looked  to  see  the  ejQfect  of  Jenny  Lind's  compliment,  on  the 
new  comer,  tells  us  he  was  "  a  pale,  thin,  dreamy,  poetical- 
looking  youth."  He  will  soon  be  seen  and  described,  how- 
ever, if  newspapers  live ;  but,  meantime,  if  we  were  to  give  a 
guess  at  the  sort  of  man  he  is,  we  should  begin  with  one  pro- 
bability— that  he  is  the  most  unworldly,  unaffected,  and  truth- 
loving,  of  all  the  mates  that  have  ever  offered  to  fold  wing  be- 
side her.  With  what  she  has  seen  of  the  world  and  of  the 
stuff  for  husbands,  Jenny  Lind  has  probably  come  round  to 
whence  she  started — choosing,  like  a  child,  by  the  instinct  of 
the  heart.     Her  O^^o-biography  will  show  how  wisely. 

The  interest  in  Jenny  Lind's  marriage  is  as  varied  as  it  is 
tender  and  respectful.  There  is  scarce  a  woman  in  the  land, 
probably,  who,  if  she  felt  at  liberty  to  do  so,  would  not  send 
her  a  bridal  token.  But  there  is  more  than  a  sisterly  well- 
wishing,  in  the  general  excitement  among  her  own  sex  on  the 
subject.     The  power,  in  one  person,  of  trying,  purely  and  to 


432  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


such  completeness,  the  two  experiments  for  happiness — love 
and  fame — were  interesting  enough  ;  but  it  is  strange  and  ex- 
citing to  see  the  usual  order  veversed— fame  first^  and  love 
afterivards.  To  turn  unsatisfied  from  love  to  fame,  has  been 
ji  common  transit  in  the  history  of  gifted  women.  To  turn 
unsatisfied  from  fame  to  love — and  that,  too,  with  no  volatile 
caprice  of  disappointment,  but  with  fame's  most  brimming  cup 
fairl}'^  won  and  fully  tasted — is  a  novelty  indeed.  Smiple  every 
day  love,  with  such  experience  on  the  heart's  record  before  it, 
has  never  been  pictured,  even  in  poetry. 

Jenny  Lind  has  genius,  and  the  impulses  and  sensibilities 
of  genius  are  an  eternal  Spring.  She  is  more  rigTit  and  wise 
than  would  seem  probable  at  a  first  glance,  in  marrying  one 
younger  than  herself.  The  Summer  and  Autumn  of  a  heart 
that  observes  the  common  Seasons  of  life,  will  pass  and  leave 
her  the  younger.  Her  prospect  for  happiness  seems  to  us, 
indeed,  all  brightness.  The  "  world  without"  well  tried,  and 
found  wanting — public  esteem  wherever  she  may  be,  and  for- 
tune ample  and  of  her  own  winning — the  tastes  of  both  bride 
and  bridegroom  cultured  for  delightful  appreciation,  and  the 
lessons  of  the  school  of  adversity  in  the  memory  of  both — it 
seems  as  if  "  circumstances,"  that  responsible  committee  of 
happiness,  could  scarce  do  more.  Frau  Goldschmidt  will  be 
happier  than  Jenny  Lind,  we  venture  to  predict.  God  bless 
hor  1 


THE  KOSSUTH  DAY. 

THE  MAGYAR  AND  THE  AZTEC,  OR.  THE  TWO  EXTREMES  OF 
HUMAN  DEVELOPMENT. 

The  great  Magyar's  first  impression  of  Broadway — if  ho 
was  cool  enough  to  lay  it  away  with  tolerable  distinctness — 
will  be  as  peculiar  material  for  future  dream  and  remembrance 
as  any  spectacle  in  which  he  could  have  taken  part.  The  ex- 
cessive brilliancy  of  the  weather  made  a  novel  portion  of  it,  to 
him.  They  do  not  see  such  sunshine  nor  breathe  such  elastic 
air  where  the  world  is  older.  It  was  an  American  day,  juicy 
and  fruity — a  slice,  full  of  flavor,  from  the  newly-cut  side  of  a 
planet  half  eaten.  But  there  were  features  in  the  pageant, 
beside,  which  were  probably  new  to  the  Magyar.  A  town 
all  dressed  with  flags  and  transparencies,  and  streets  crowded 
with  people,  he  may  have  been  welcomed  by,  before.  Poles 
(433)  19 


434  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


and  bunting  are  easily  made  enthusiastic,  and  so  are  the 
crowds  afloat  in  a  large  city.  We  went  out,  for  one,  expect- 
ing these  demonstrations  only.  What  was  new — what  gave 
the  Magyar  a  welcome  unforeseen  and  peculiar — was  the  two 
miles  of  French  bonnets  and  waving  cambric  pocket  hand- 
kerchiefs through  which  he  passed — two  miles  of  from  three 
to  six-story  houses,  and  every  window  crowded  with  fair 
faces,  and  alive  with  gloved  hands  waving  the  perfumed  white 
flags  of  individual  admiration. 

The  ladies  of  America  have  received  Kossuth  as  their  hero 
— and  this  is  not  a  trifle.  It  might  readily  have  been  foreseen, 
however.  The  dominant  intellect  and  purpose  that  can  con- 
trol the  mind  of  a  nation,  and  the  perseverance  that  can  fol- 
low its  cause  to  imprisonment  and  exile,  make  a  statesman 
and  patriot  worth  seeing — even  if  that  were  all.  But  Kossuth 
is,  besides^  "  potent  with  sword  and  pen" — he  is,  besides^  elo- 
quent beyond  all  living  men — he  is,  besides^  heroic-looking, 
courteous  and  high-bred — and  he  is,  besides  all  this,  a  fault- 
less husband  and  parent.  That  he  dresses  picturesquely  in 
furs  and  velvet,  wears  "  light  kid  gloves  "  and  a  moustache, 
and  has  a  carefully  set  feather  in  his  hat,  may  be  disparage- 
ments among  the  men — but  not  among  the  ladies.  He  is,  to 
them,  all  that  he  could  be  or  should  be — nothing  that  he 
should  not  be.  And  when  we  remember  what  the  ladies  are, 
in  our  country — free  to  read,  and  expand  in  intellect,  while 
their  husbands  and  brothers  drudge  and  harrow — we  can 
safely  repeat  what  we  say  above,  that  the  lady-constituency 
which  welcomed  Kossuth  to  America,  and  will  sustain  him 
here,  is  by  no  means  a  trifle. 

It  was  really  curious,  (to  leave  spoculation  and  confine  our 


KOSSUTH. 


435 


self  to  description,  that  is  more  amusing,)  to  be  one  in  the 
crowd  on  the  reception  day,  and  observe  the  character  of  the 
enthusiasm.  We  followed  the  carriage  of  Kossuth,  ourself, 
from  the  Astor  House  to  Leonard  street — half-a-mile — and 
can  speak  of  Broadway  for  that  much  of  his  progress.  In 
this  country  (where  there  is  no  window  tax,  and  every  house 
is  as  full  of  windows  as  a  sieve  is  full  of  holes,)  the  houses 
look  like  flat-sided  beehives,  to  a  foreigner's  eye;  and  the 
sudden  outbreak,  apparently,  of  every  brick  with  a  pocket- 
handkerchief,  as  he  rode  along,  must  have  seemed  to  Kossuth 
very  extraordinary.  The  houses  looked  hidden  in  snowflakes 
of  immense  size.  It  was  an  aisle  between  walk  of  waving 
cambric — and,  either  from  the  oddity  of  this  phenomenon,  or 
from  the  attractive  glimpses  of  the  smiles  behind  them,  all  eyes 
were  on  the  windows  and  handkerchiefs,  none  on  the  side- 
walks and  soldiers.  As  far  as  we  saw,  it  was  a  show  of  ele- 
gantly-dressed ladie.s,  throughout;  and,  of  the  beauty  and 
taste  of  the  city,  the  discriminating  Magyar  can  have  received 
no  indifierent  idea.  We  did  not  know,  (or  had  "  forgotten, 
in  the  press  of  business,")  that  so  much  loveliness  was  around 
us,  and  we  are  very  sure  that  Kossuth  will  never  see  so  much 
assembled  in  any  city  of  Europe. 

The  rest  of  the  show — the  troops,  flags,  arches  and  civic 
ceremonies — are  over-described  in  the  other  papers  ;  and,  of 
Kossuth  himself  we  omit  any  special  mention  till  we  have 
seen  him  closer  and  heard  him  speak.  In  our  next  number^ 
perhaps,  we  shall  be  able  to  portray  him  for  our  distant  read- 
ers, with  some  material  for  accuracy. 

At  the  same  time  that  the  "  greatest  specimen  of  humanity" 
was  thus  passing  in  triumph  on  one  side  of  the  Park,  the 


436        FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

smallest  epecimeu  of  humanity  was  comfortably  lodged  upon 
the  other.  We  crossed  over — partly  to  astonish  the  same  ten 
minutes  with  a  sight  uf  the  two  extremes  of  human  nature, 
(contrasts  so  help  one  to  realize  things,)  and  partly  in  the  way 
of  humble  servant  to  our  readers,  for  whom  we  are  bound  to 
take  every  means  to  be  astonished — and  called  upon  the  Aztec 
Children,  at  the  Clinton.  We  will  precede  our  account  of 
the  visit,  by  a  sketch  of  the  facts  concerning  them,  which  we 
find  in  the  Evening  Post  : 

"  The  two  children  of  the  South  American  race,  commonly 
called  the  Aztec  Children,  have  recently  been  brought  to  this 
city.  They  are  altogether  the  most  remarkable  specimens  of 
the  human  species  we  have  seen — decidedly  human,  yet  so 
variant  from  the  common  type  of  our  race,  so  peculiar  in  con- 
formation of  features,  in  size,  attitude  and  gesture,  that  they 
impress  one  at  first  with  a  feeling  forw^hich  surprise  is  hardly 
the  true  name.  One  can  hardly  help  at  first  looking  upon 
them  as  belonging  to  the  race  of  gnomes  with  which  the  su- 
perstition of  former  times  once  peopled  the  chambers  of  the 
earth — a  tradition  which  some  have  referred  to  the  existence 
of  an  ancient  race,  of  diminutive  stature,  dwelling  in  caverns, 
and  structures  of  unhewn  stones,  which  have  long  since  dis- 
appeared. 

**^The  race  to  which  they  appear  to  belong — with  precisely 
#the  remarkable  conformation  of  skull — ^has  hitherto  been 
thought  to  be  extinct.  That  it  did  once  exist,  and  was  a  nu 
merous  and  populous  race,  is  proved,  not  so  much  by  the 
BCJ.'lptures  of  Yucatan — though  these  furnish  corroborative 
proof— «B  by  the  skulls  found  in  the  ancient  burial  places  of 


KOSSUTH.  43.7 


Peru  and  Brazil.  These  skulls  have  much  occupied  the  atten- 
tion of  ethnologists,  to  whom  they  have  furnished  arguments 
and  diflSculties  in  the  controversy  concerning  the  unity  of  the 
human  race.  Until  now,  however,  it  has  been  agreed  that  no 
hving  sample  of  this  extraordinary  variety  was  remaining  on 
the  surface  of  the  globe. 

"The  manner  in  which  these  specimens  of  a  race  supposed  no 
longer  to  exist  have  been  procured,  is  related  in  a  pamphlet 
just  printed,  entitled  '  A  Memoir  of  an  Eventful  Expedition 
in  Central  America,'  partly  compiled  and  partly  translated 
from  the  Spanish  of  Pedro  Velasquez,  of  San  Salvador.  Our 
readers  will  remember  the  account  given  in  Stevens's  Travels 
in  Central  America,  of  a  large  city  among  the  mountains  of 
Central  America,  inhabited  by  a  race  which  had  never  been 
subdued  by  the  white  man,  and  the  inhabitants  of  which  slew 
every  white  man  who  penetrated  into  their  country. 

"Two  young  men,  Mr.  Huertis,  of  Baltimore,  and  Mr. 
Hammond,  a  civil  engineer,  of  Upper  Canada,  determined  to 
visit  this  city.  They  landed  at  Balize,  in  the  autumn  of  1848, 
and  proceeded  to  Copan,  where  they  were  joined  by  Velas- 
quez, the  author  of  the  narrative.  He  accompanied  them  to 
Santa  Cruz  del  Quiche,  where  the  curate  lived  who  gave  Mr. 
Stevens  the  account  of  the  mysterious  and  inaccessible  city, 
the  white  limits  of  which  he  had  seen  from  the  mountains, 
glittering  in  the  sun. 

"  They  obtained  a  guide,  climbed  the  mountains,  and  were 
rewarded  with  a  view  of  the  city — the  city  of  Ivimaya.  It 
w^as  of  vast  dimensions,  with  lofty  walls  and  domes  of  tem- 
ples. They  were  not  permitted  to  enter,  however,  without 
fighting  for  it,  and  an  engagement  took  place  between  the  in- 


438  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

habitants  and  the  visiters,  in  which  the  former,  who  were 
without  the  use  of  fire-arms,  were  worsted,  and  consented  to 
admit  the  strangers  into  the  city. 

"  It  was  not  expected,  however,  that  the  guests  would  ever 
leave  the  city,  and  accordingly  they  were  carefully  watched. 
Hammond  died  at  Iximaya,  but  Huertia  and  Velasquez  made 
their  escape,  carrying  with  them  two  orphan  children — the 
children  who  are  now  in  this  city — of  the  ancient  priestly  race, 
who  are  described  in  the  following  paragraph 

"  The  place  of  residence  assigned  to  our  travellers,  was  the 
vacant  wing  of  a  spacious  and  sumptuous  structure  at  the 
western  extremity  of  the  city,  which  had  been  appropriated, 
from  time  immemorial,  to  the  surviving  remnant  of  an  ancient 
and  singular  order  of  priesthood,  called  Kaanas,  which  it  was 
distinctly  asserted,  in  their  annals  and  traditions,  had  accom- 
panied the  first  migration  of  this  people  from  the  Assyrian 
plains.  Their  peculiar  and  strongly  distinctive  lineaments,  it 
is  now  perfectly  well  ascertained  are  to  be  traced  in  many 
of  the  sculptured  monuments  of  the  central  American  ruins, 
and  were  found  still  more  abundantly  on  those  of  Iximaya. 
Forbidden,  by  inviolably  sacred  laws,  from  intermarrying  with 
any  persons  but  those  of  their  own  caste,  they  had  dwindled 
down  in  the  course  of  many  centuries,  to  a  few  insignificant 
individuals,  diminutive  in  stature,  and  imbecile  in  intellect.  They 
were,  nevertheless,  held  in  high  veneration  and  affection  by  the 
whole  Iximayan  community,  probably  as  living  specimens  of  an 
antique  race  so  nearly  extinct.  Their  position,  as  an  order 
of  priesthood,  it  is  now  known,  had  not  been  higher,  for  many 
ages,  if  ever,  than  that  of  religious  mimes  and  bacchanals  in  a 


KOSSUTH. 


439 


certain  class  of  pagan   ceremonies,  highly  popular  with  the 
multitude." 

Shown,  unannounced,  into  a  private  room  where  these  Aztec - 
children  were  playing,  we  came  upon  them  rather  suddenly. 
The  surprise  was  mostly  on  our  own  part,  however.  Two 
strange-looking  little  creatures  jumped  up  from  the  floor  and 
ran  to  shake  hands  with  us,  then  darted  quickly  to  a  wash- 
stand  and  seized  comb  and  hair-brush  to  give  to  the  attendant, 
that  they  might  be  made  presentable  to  strangers — and,  with 
the  entire  novelty  of  the  impression,  we  were  completely 
taken  aback.  If  we  had  been  suddenly  dropped  upon  another 
planet  and  had  rang  at  the  first  door  we  came  to,  we  should  not 
have  expected  to  see  things  more  peculiar.  There  was  no- 
thing monstrous  in  their  appearance.  They  were  not  even 
miraculously  small.  But  they  were  of  an  entirely  new  type — 
a  kind  of  human  being  which  we  had  never  before  seen — with 
physiognomies  formed  by  descent  through  ages  of  thoui;l.t 
and  association  of  which  we  had  no  knowledge — movin<i 
observing  and  gesticulatmg  differently  from  all  other  children — 
and  someho  w,  with  an  unexplainable  look  of  authenticity  and  con- 
scious priority,  as  if  they  were  of  the  "  old  family"  of  human 
nature,  and  we  were  the  mushrooms  of  to-day.  Their  size 
and  form — but  we  will  save  labor  by  copying  a  literal  descrip- 
tion of  their  appearance  from  the  Journal  of  Commerce : — 

"  The  race  of  priests  to  which  they  belong  is  supposed  to 
have  become  Lilliputian  by  the  degeneracy  which  results  from 
limiting  intermarriage  to  those  of  their  own  caste.  The  spe- 
cimens brought  here  are  perfect  in  form,  though  slight. 
Maximo,  the  boy,  is  only  thirty-three  inches  in  height,  and 


440  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

Bartola,  the  girl,  three  or  four  inches  shorter.  Their  ages 
can  only  be  conjectured,  but  there  are  indications  of  maturity 
about  the  boy,  that  are  seldom,  if  ever,  witnessed  at  so  early 
an  age  as  twelve.  The  girl  is  supposed  to  be  about  nine. 
Their  skin  is  of  the  Indian  hue,  hair  and  eyes  jet  black,  the 
latter,  large,  brilliant  and  expressive.  The  hair  is  wavy  and 
very  beautiful.  Their  neat  little  figures  were  exhibited  to 
great  advantage,  in  black  stockinet  dresses,  fitting  closely  to 
their  bodies  and  limbs,  and  short  fanciful  tunics.  They  re- 
ceived us  with  easy  gayety.  Indeed,  they  seem  to  have  per- 
fect confidence  in  all  who  approach  them.  Nothing  restrains 
their  lively,  juvenile  propensities.  They  seemed  to  derive  infi- 
nite amusement  from  their  tin  cups,  presenting  them,  as  in 
giving  water,  to  all  who  were  present,  and  finally  to  the  cane 
on  which  they  seemed  to  think  it  fun  alive  to  ride  horseback 
fashion.  They  are  exceedingly  docile  and  afiectionate,  and 
the  little  girl  seemed  quite  emulous  of  receiving  as  much 
notice  as  her  companion.  Their  heads  are  singularly  formed 
— the  forehead  forming  nearly  a  straight  line  with  the  nose, 
and  receding  to  an  apex  which  it  forms  with  the  back  of  the 
head — strikingly  similar  to  the  sculptured  figures  on  Cen- 
tral American  monuments.  Nor  are  they  less  peculiar  in 
their  manners  and  carriage.  In  general,  their  attitudes 
exhibit  perfect  grace ;  but  we  noticed  that  whenever  the  boy 
eat  upon  the  floor,  as  he  frequently  did,  he  invariably  sat  upon 
the  inside  of  his  legs  and  thighs,  bending  his  knees  outwards, 
and  forming  with  his  legs  on  the  floor  the  letter  W  inverted. 
This  attitude  we  have  frequently  seen  exhi  bited  in  drawings 
from  Egyptian  sculptures." 


KOSSUTH. 


441 


You  do  not  charge  to  the  original  race,  as  you  look  at  these 
little  creatures,  either  their  diminutive  size,  or  their  deficiency 
of  room  for  brain.  The  typo  of  a  noble  breed  is  in  the 
aquiline  nose  and  soft  lustrous  eye,  and  in  the  symmetrical 
frame  and  peculiar  and  indescnhahle  presence  ;  and,  while  you 
remember  the  intermarriage  by  which  they  have  been  kept 
sacred,  and  become  thus  homoeopathic  in  size,  you  cannot  but 
feel  that  the  essence  is  still  there,  and  the  quality  still  recog- 
nizable and  potent.  With  little  intelligence,  and  skulls  of 
such  shape  that  no  hope  can  be  entertained  of  their  being 
ever  self-relying  or  responsible,  they  still  inspire  an  indefinable 
feeling  of  interest,  and  a  deference  for  the  something  they 
vaguely  after-shadow. 

We  sat  a  half  hour,  studying  these  little  wonders.  The 
little  girl,  Bartola,  held  our  hand,  and  looked  us  full  in  the 
eye  with  affectionate  confidingness,  while  the  boy  backed  in 
between  the  open  knees  of  our  partner.  Gen.  Morris,  and  sig- 
nified his  wish,  with  the  careless  authority  of  a  little  Emperor, 
to  be  taken  into  the  lap.  With  no  words  of  their  own,  they 
understood  what  the  attendant  said  to  them,  and  seemed  to 
be  relieved  of  their  loneliness  by  our  company.  A  band  of 
music  approaching  while  we  were  there,  the  little  Aztecs 
showed  the  greatest  excitement.  We  held  the  boy  up  to  the 
window  while  the  military  company  went  by,  and  his  little 
kitten  frame  trembled  and  jumped  nervously  to  the  measure 
of  the  march — music  happily  being  of  no  language,  and  stir- 
ring brains  of  all  stages  of  progress,  from  Kossuth's,  at  the 
noon  of  a  race's  developement,  to  the  Iximayan's,  in  its  fading 
twilight. 

Our  readers  will  not  expect,  in  our  columns,  the  details  of 
19* 


442         FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES 


Kossuth's  Progress,  nor  a  literal  report  of  his  speeches. 
They  overwhelm  even  the  double  sheets  of  the  daily  papers. 
But  we  shall  chronicle  a  distinct  outline  of  his  movements,  and 
see  that  the  readers  of  the  Home  Journal  lose  none  of  the 
ifl?ea5,  either  of  his  producing  or  suggesting.  He  has  begun 
with  magnificent  frankness  and  boldness,  and  is  un- 
questionably a  magnanimous  and  admirable  man,  equal  to, 
and  embarked  upon,  a  great  errand.  We  wish  him  success— 
not  with  the  legislators,  but  with  the  dollars  of  our  country. 
Money  enough  will  set  Hungary  free.  We  trust  the  enlist- 
ment of  these  gold  and  siver  recruits  will  be  organized  and  in 
progress  while  his  eloquence  is  thundering  an  accompaniment. 
Many  ways  will  be  devised  for  raising  contributions.  Let 
us  close  our  present  remarks  by  j»ro/>osi/2^  one — as  a  natural 
sequent  to  the  peculiarity  of  which  we  have  spoken  in  his 
reception.  The  Magyar's  lady  constituency  in  America  — 
each  one  giving  but  the  price  of  a  pair  of  gloves — a  dollar 
from  each  of  the  fair  admirers  of  Kossuth  and  his  cause — 
might,  almost  of  itself,  secure  the  independence  of  Hungary. 
The  dollars  are  willing  and  waiting — who  can  doubt  ?  Will 
not  some  ruling  spirit  devise  a  way  to  reach  and  enrol  them  ? 


NEAR    VIEW    OF    KOSSUTH 


The  eye  has  opinions  of  its  own.  Pour  into  the  mind,  by 
all  its  other  avenues,  the  most  minute  and  authentic  know- 
ledge of  a  man,  and,  when  you  see  him^  your  opinion  is  more 
or  less  changed  or  modified.  This  is  our  apology  for  adding 
another  to  the  numberless  descriptions  of  Kossuth.  Having 
been  favored  with  an  opportunity  to  stand  near  him  during 
the  delivery  of  one  of  his  most  stirring  speeches,  we  found 
that  our  previous  impression  of  him  was  altered,  or,  rather, 
perhaps,  somewhat  added  to.  Trifling  as  the  diflerence  of 
our  view  from  that  of  others  may  be,  Kossuth  is  a  star  about 

whom  the  astronomy  can  scarce  be  too  minute ;  and  our  dis- 

(443) 


^44  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


tant  readers,  who  are  in  the  habit  of  hearing  of  new  planets 
from  us,  may  be  willing  to  see  how  also  the  Magyar  looks, 
through  the  small  telescope  of  our  quill. 

With  our  distant  readers  mainly  in  view,  we  shall  be  ex- 
cused for  describing  Kossuth's  surroundings,  as  well  as  him- 
self, with  a  particularity  unnecessary  for  the  city  reader. 

It  has  been  difficult,  without  some  official  errand,  to  ap- 
proach near  enough  to  the  Magyar  to  distinguish  the  finer 
lines'of  his  face,  and  we  were  beginning  to  despair  of  this 
privilege  when  the  Delegation  arrived  from  Baltimore,  and, 
from  friends  among  them,  we  received  an  invitation  to  go  in 
at  the  presentation  of  the  silver  book.  This,  we  may  anticipa- 
torily  explain,  was  the  "  freedom  of  the  city  "  in  a  w- ritten  ad- 
dress, of  folio  size,  and  bound  between  two  leaves  of  massive 
silver ;  the  whole  enclosed  in  a  case  of  red  velvet.  It  was 
suitably  and  creditably  magnificent;  and  its  history  would 
not  all  be  told  without  mentioning  that  it  received  a  kiss  from 
Madame  Kossuth — Mr.  Brantz  Mayer  having  mindfully  and 
courteously  presented  it  to  that  lady — the  Governor's  Secre- 
tary insisting  on  taking  charge  of  it — and  she  refusing  to  re- 
lease it  before  pressing  it  to  her  lips.  Baltimore's  blood  will 
warm  with  the  compliment. 

On  reaching  the  Irving  House  at  the  hour  when  the  silver 
book  was  to  be  presented,  we  found  the  hotel  in  a  state  of 
siege,  inside  and  out.  Broadway  was  packed  with  people, 
and  the  staircases  of  the  hotel  were  hardly  passable.  One 
Hungarian  officer,  in  brilliant  uniform,  stood  sentry  at  the 
drawing  room  door,  and  here  and  there  a  Magyar  hat,  with 
its  go-against-the  wind-looking  black  feather,  wound  through 
the  crowd  ;  but  by   the  numerous  "  highly  respectables  "  in 


KOSSUTH.  445 


body  coats  and  important  expressions  of  countenance,  there 
were  evidently  uncounted  Committees  waiting  to  get  audience 
within^  while  flags  and  bands  of  music  indicated  the  more 
popular  deputations  whose  hopes  were  on  the  balcony  without. 
There  seemed  little  chance  of  any  special  reception  by  the 
Magyar,  when  Howard  sent  word  that  he  could  give  the 
Baltimore  Delegation  his  own  private  parlor,  where  Kossuth 
would  presently  come  to  them.  We  took  advantage  of  the 
"  presently"  to  get  a  look  into  the  street,  from  one  of  the  front 
windows.  It  was  a  sea  of  upturned  faces,  with  hats  all  fall- 
ing one  way,  like  shadows — Kossuth  the  light.  He  stood  on 
the  balcony.  The  many  colored  flags  of  the  "  European  De- 
mocracy "  throbbed  over  the  crowd — Italians,  Germans, 
Frenchmen,  Poles — the  refugees  of  all  nations  standing  ga- 
zing on  the  prophet  of  Liberty.  It  was  a  scene,  and  had  a 
meaning,  for  history.  Yet  it  was  but  the  one  hour^s  events  in 
a  day  all  occupied  with  such.  A  band  of  one  hundred  of  the 
clergy  had  linked  an  imperishable  testimonial  to  the  hour  be- 
fore. The  reply  to  the  Baltimore  Delegation  contained 
truths  that  will  radiate  through  all  time  from  the  hour  after. 
Truly,  a  man's  life  may  be  so  high  and  so  deep,  that,  to  mea- 
sure it  by  its  length,  is  meaningless. 

The  Baltimoreans  made  their  way  to  the  room  appointed, 
which  was  immediately  crowded  by  privileged  spectators,  and 
reporters  for  the  press,  with  a  small  party  of  ladies  in  the 
corner.  We  were  kindly  urged  to  take  our  place  directly  be- 
hind Judge  Le  Grand,  who  was  the  central  figure  of  the  De- 
^legation  group,  and,  as  Kossuth  stood  but  four  or  five  feet 
distant,  during  his  reply  to  the  addresses,  and  with  his  eye 
upon  the  Judge  almost  unvaryingly,  we  were  so  fortunate 


446 


FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


as  to  see  him  with  every  advantage  of  the  closest  obser- 
vation. 

Madam  Kossuth  was  presently  introduced  with  Madam 
Pulzky,  her  companion,  and  seated  a  little  in  advance  of  the 
lady  spectators.  She  is  an  invalid,  pale  and  slightly  bent — 
her  figure  fragile,  and  her  expression  of  face  a  mingled  imprint 
of  bodily  suffering  and  conscious  belonging  to  greatness.  Her 
countenance,  we  observed,  though  earnestly  attentive,  was 
profoundly  tranquil,  alike  through  the  more  even  flow  of  her 
husband's  eloquence  and  its  overwhelming  and  impassioned 
outbreaks. 

The  crowd  near  the  door  parted  at  last,  and  Kossuth  en- 
tered. The  gentleman  on  whose  arm  he  leaned  led  him  to  the 
centre  of  the  room,  and  presented  him  to  the  Delegation. 

The  reader  must  remember  the  tumultuous  scene,  of  which 
Kossuth  had  been  the  centre  a  moment  before,  when  we  say 
that  he  entered  and  was  presented  to  the  Committee,  with  a 
face  as  calm  as  if  he  had  just  risen  from  his  morning  prayer. 
He  bowed,  with  grave  and  deliberate  deference,  at  each  in- 
troduction. It  had  been  communicated  to  the  gentlemen  in 
the  room,  that,  from  the  injury  of  movement  to  his  chest  after 
the  hemorrhage  of  the  morning,  he  must  be  excused  from 
shaking  hands,  and  he  bowed  only — assuming  the  attitude  of 
a  listener,  with  an  immediate  earnestness  which  showed  that 
he  felt  little  strength  for  more  than  the  main  purpose  of  the 
interview.  He  stood  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  motionless, 
and  the  reading  of  the  Addresses  proceeded. 

The  surprise  of  a  man  who  had  placed  himself  at  a  win- 
dow to  watch  for  the  coming  of  a  stranger,  but  discovers, 
after  a  while,  that  the  stranger  has  been  for  some  time  enjoy- 


KOSSUTH. 


447 


iDg  the  welcome  of  the  household  within,  may  vaguely  ex- 
press the  feeling  to  which  we  awoke,  after  looking  for  five  min- 
utes at  Kossuth.  He  had  been,  from  the  first  instant,  in 
full  possession  of  our  heart,  and  yet  the  eyes  that  we  had  set 
to  scrutinize  him  had  not  noted  a  single  feature.  It  was  the 
strongest  instance  we  had  ever  experienced,  of  what  we 
knew  to  be  true,  by  lesser  examples,  that  the  soul,  ivith 
7ieighborhood  only^  makes  recognitions  of  what  could  neither 
be  painted  nor  sculptured,  neither  uttered  nor  written.  His 
mere  'presence  opened  to  him  the  door,  told  who  he  was,  and 
set  the  heart,  like  Mary,  to  the  washing  of  his  feet.  We 
loved  and  revered  the  man — why,  or  with  what  beginning  or 
progress,  w^e  could  not  have  explained.  But — let  us  de- 
scribe what  we  afterwards  called  upon  the  eye  to  take 
note  of. 

Kossuth  is  of  medium  height,  with  hollow  chest  and  the 
forward-brought  shoulders  of  a  sedentary  life.  His  head  is 
set  firmly,  not  proudly  or  aristocratically  erect,  upon  his  neck. 
He  stood  so  long  and  so  tranquilly  immovable  in  single  pos- 
tures, that  it  raised  a  question  in  our  mind  whether  he  could 
be  of  the  nervous  construction  which  men  of  great  intellect 
oftenest  are;  and,  on  looking  at  the  hand,  that  tablet  of  ner- 
vous action,  we  saw  that  he  was  not.  The  broad  smooth 
back  of  it  was  unwritten  with  needless  8ufi"ering,  and  the 
thumb  joint  projected,  like  that  of  a  man  used  to  manual 
labor.  It  was  a  hand,  had  we  seen  its  like  elsewhere,  from 
whose  owner  we  should  have  expected  nothing  more  poetical 
or  heroic  than  a  well-considered  vote.  We  found  a  subse- 
quent confirmation  of  this,  we  may  mention,  in  the  singular 
immovableness  of  the  sockets,  and  lids  of  his  eyes,  during  the 


448  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

eloquent  outpourings  of  his  heart  which  followed.  When 
his  lips  were  compressed,  and  a  quivering  movement  in  his 
chin  showed  that  emotion  was  restrained  with  difficulty,  his 
eye  was  immovably  serene,  and  its  largely  spread  lids  were 
as  tranquil  as  the  sky  around  a  moon  unclouded.  We  were 
strongly  impressed  with  these  outer  signs  of  the  two  natures 
of  Kossuth.  He  has  a  heart  like  other  men — his  exquisitely 
moulded  chin  and  lips  of  exceeding  physical  beauty  and  ex- 
pression sufficiently  show.  But,  from  all  that  can  reach  these, 
his  intellect  is  islanded  away.  The  upper  part  of  his  face  is 
calmly  separate,  not  only  from  the  movement,  but  from  the 
look,  of  emotion.  It  is  a  mind  unreachable  by  nerves — a 
brain  that  thinks  on,  as  the  sun  pursues  its  way  across  the 
heavens,  unhindered  by  the  clouds  that  may  gather  beneath. 
A  face,  in  the  lower  part  .of  which,  sensuous  beauty  is  so 
remarkably  complete — and,  around  the  temples,  and  beneath 
the  brow  of  which,  is  so  stamped  the  divine  impress  of  an  in- 
tellect high  above  weakness  and  human  by  limit  only — we 
had  never  before  seen. 

It  was  quite  evident  that  Kossuth  had  entered  the  room, 
simply  to  fulfil  a  duty — feeling  unequal  to  it,  from  his  illness 
of  the  morning  and  the  fatigues  he  had  already  undergone — 
and  with  no  idea  of  making  more  than  the  briefest  acknow- 
ledgment of  courtesy  for  what  he  should  hear  from  the  Gom- 
mitlee.  Even  his  dress  showed  that  he  was  not  prepared  for 
**  an  occasion."  He  wore  a  brown  cut-away  coat,  (which 
must  have  been  selected  for  him  by  a  waiter,  sent  to  a  ready 
made  clothes  shop  with  a  verbal  description  of  the  gentleman 
to  be  fitted,)  a  black  waistcoat  buttoned  to  the  throat,  no  shirt 
visible,  and  trousers  of  uninfluenceable  salt-and-pepper.   That 


KOSSUTH  44g 


the  mien  and  bearing  of  an  Oriental  gentleman,  as  well  as 
the  dignity  of  a  prophet,  were  as  fully  and  impressively  re- 
cognizable through  these  Edward-P.-Fox-ables,  as  through 
the  braided  cloak  and  under  the  black  plume  of  the  Magyar, 
is  a  standard,  though  a  homely  one,  by  which  some  may  be 
helped  to  an  estimate  of  the  man. 

We  have  seen  repeated  mention  of  the  "  perpetual  smile  " 
of  Kossuth.  This  conveys  a  wrong  impression.  He  may 
smile  often  and  easily  when  receiving  introductions  or  bowing 
to  the  cheers  of  a  crowd ;  but  it  is  a  demonstration  which, 
habitually,  he  keeps  very  much  in  reserve,  and  which,  of  all 
the  visible  weapons  of  his  eloquence,  is  the  most  rarely  and 
aptly  introduced,  the  most  captivating  and  effective.  We  are 
inclined  to  think  his  heavy  mustache  accidentally  favors  this, 
by  aiding  the  unexpectedness  of  the  smile,  and  by  leaving  its 
fading  glow  to  the  imagination — but,  at  moments  when  the 
lips  of  another  orator  would  be  cloud-wrapt  in  the  darkest 
expression  of  solemnity,  a  gleam,  like  the  breaking  away  for  a 
transfiguration,  comes  suddenly  over  the  lips  of  Kossuth — as 
beautiful  and  inspired  a  smile  certainly  as  was  ever  seen  on 
the  face  of  a  human  being — and  the  effect  is  in  the  peculiar 
triumph  that  he  achieves.  Love  irresistibly  follows  convic- 
tion. 

As  we  said  before,  Kossuth  had  evidently  no  idea  of  mak- 
ing the  speech  which  was  drawn  from  him  by  the  Baltimore 
Delegation — drawn  from  him,  we  think,  by  the  superior  cast 
of  the  gentlemen  who  formed  it,  and  by  the  fitness,  both  of 
the  manner  and  accompaniments  of  the  honors  they  paid  him. 
He  spoke  altogether  extemporaneously,  and  with  diflSculty 
and  hesitation,   at  first;  but,  with  one  or  two  brilliant  and 


450        FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

successful  illustrations,  his  words  grew  more  fluent,  and,  in 
the  following  passage,  he  became  fully  and  gloriously  aroused. 
It  was  the  first  mention  he  had  yet  made  to  the  world  of  his 
intention  to  return  to  Hungary  a  soldier  ! 

"  As  for  the  future,  I  shall  devote  my  life  to  the  resurrec- 
tion of  my  native  land.  I  will  endeavor  to  wrest  Hungary 
from  the  power  of  tyrants  and  despots,  to  procure  for  her  her 
sovereign  rights,  and  the  fundamental  rights  which  belong  to 
every  nation.  Should  Providence  assign  me  a  place  in  the 
accomplishment  of  these  great  designs,  I  will  take  care  that 
they  shall  receive  no  injury  from  me.  I  will  here  remark  that 
I  have  always  been  extremely  anxious  not  to  assume  or  take 
upon  my  humble  shoulders  any  duty  which  I  had  not  a  posi- 
tive conviction  would  not  answer  me,  or  which  I  could  not 
perform.  Though  I  was  never  in  actual  military  service,  I 
was  ready  to  help  my  country  in  every  way  I  could.  I  was 
not  able  to  be  in  every  place  at  the  same  time,  and  I  had  not 
the  boldness  to  take  the  practical  direction  of  the  military 
operations  because  I  feared  I  was  not  sufliciently  familiar 
with  military  tactics  to  do  so.  I  thought  that  if  it  so  hap- 
pened that  any  thing  should  go  amiss,  and  my  people  be  de- 
feated, that  I  should  not  only  be  condemned  by  my  country- 
men, but  that  my  conscience  would  torture  me  with  the 
feeling,  that  if  I  had  not  undertook  to  do  a  thteg  which  I 
did  not  understand,  the  fall  of  my  country  would  not  have 
taken  place.  This  was  my  conviction.  /  was  not  master  of 
the  practice  and  strategy  of  war^  and  I  gave  the  cause  of  v\y 
country  thus  far  into  other  hands.  I  have  seen  that  cause 
destroyed,  and  become  a  failure,  and  I  weep  for  my  country, 


KOSSUTH.  4g  J 


not  for  my  own  misfortunes.  Since  I  have  been  in  exile  I 
have  endeavored  to  improve  my  intellect  from  the  movements  of 
the  pastf  and  to  prepare  myself  for  the  future^  and  I  rely  oa 
my  people,  whose  confidence  in  me  is  not  shaken  by  my  mis- 
fortunes, nor  broken  by  my  calumniators,  who  have  misrepre- 
sented me.  /  have  had  all  in  my  own  hands  once,  and  if  I 
get  in  the  same  position  again,  I  will  act.  I  will  not  become 
a  Napoleon  nor  an  Alexander,  and  labor  for  the  sake  of 
my  own  ambition,  but  I  will  labor  for  freedom." 

These  are  not  his  words,  though  they  embody  the  sentiments 
expressed.  His  own  language  was  as  much  finer,  and  as  dif- 
ferent from  this,  as  a  poem  is  from  its  story  told  in  prose. 
The  reporters  are  not  to  blame,  taking  their  notes  standing 
amid  a  crowd  as  they  do — but,  (let  us  say  here,)  the  public 
should  give  Kossuth  credit  for  incomparably  more  eloquent 
speeches  than  they  read.  An  admirable  passage,  left  out  in 
what  we  have  quoted,  for  instance,  followed  the  allusion  he 
made  to  his  disappointment  in  Goergey,  the  traitor,  the  shock 
it  gave  to  his  belief  in  the  power  of  one  man  to  read  the  soul 
of  another,  and  the  lonely  trust  in  himself  only,  to  which  it 
had  driven  him.  To  the  words  and  the  manner  with  which 
he  repeated  the  declaration  that  he  believed  in  himself  we  do 
not  think  we  shall  ever  hear  the  parallel  for  impressive  elo- 
quence. Those  who  heard  it  would  believe  in  Kossuth— 
against  the  testimony  of  angels. 

Kossuth  is  too  heroic  a  man  to  be  over-cautious ;  and,  from 
the  kind  of  freshly  impulsive  and  chivalric  energy  with  which 
he  spoke  of  holding  the  army  in  his  own  hand  on  his  return, 
we  were  impressed  with  the  idea  that  this  evidently  unpre- 


452 


FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


meditated  giving  of  shape  to  his  thought  for  the  future 
had  another  element  in  its  momentum.  It  was  the  reading 
aloud  of  a  newly  turned  over  leaf  of  his  nature.  In  prison,  he 
says,  he  prepared  himself  for  the  next  struggle  of  Hungary  by 
making  *'  the  science  and  strategy  of  war"  a  study.  Profound 
and  careful,  of  course,  must  be  the  theory  of  war — but  its 
practice  is  with  trumpet  and  banner ;  and  ever  so  abstruse 
though  the  tactics  are,  they  are  tried  even  for  the  holiest  cause, 
with  those  accompaniments,  of  personal  daring  and  danger, 
which  have,  to  all  lofty  minds,  a  charm  irresistible.  Of  the 
statesman  and  hero  united  in  Kossuth,  the  statesman  has  been 
more  wanted,  hitherto — but  there  is  a  call,  now,  for  the  hero 
— and,  if  he  betrays  joy  and  eagerness  long  suppressed,  (as 
we  mean  to  say  he  did,)  in  answering  that  he  is  ready,  what 
American  will  "  wish  he  had  been  more  careful  ?" 

In  farther  illustration  of  what  we  are  saying,  the  reader  will 
permit  us  to  change  the  scene  of  our  sketch,  and  speak  of  Kos- 
suth as  we  saw  him  more  recently — addressing  the  five  thou- 
sand of  our  soldiery  in  the  amphitheatre  of  Castle  Garden. 
It  was  not,  there^  the  pale,  carelessly  dressed,  and  slightly 
bent  invalid  of  the  few  days  before.  Oh  no  !  Neither  in 
mien  nor  in  dress  would  he  have  been  recognized  by  the  pic- 
ture we  have  drawn  of  him,  above.  The  scene  was  enough 
to  inspire  him  it  is  true.  Five  thousand  brilliantly  equipped 
men — with  but  one  thought  under  every  plume  and  belt,  and 
that  thought  the  cause  whose  highest  altar  was  in  his  own 
bosom — were  marshalled  beneath  his  glance,  waiting  breath- 
lessly to  hear  him.  His  look,  that  night,  will  never  be  forgot, 
by  those  who  saw  it.  He  wore  a  black  velvet  frock  with 
Btanding  collar,  and  buttons  of  jet — the  single  ornament  being 


KOSSUTH.  453 


the  slender  belt  of  gold  about  his  waist,  holding  a  sword 
gracefully  to  his  side.  The  marked  simplicity  of  this  elegant 
dress  made  his  figure  distinguished  among  the  brilliant  uniforms 
of  the  officers  upon  the  stage;  but  his  countenance,  as  he  be- 
came animated,  and  walked  to  and  fro  before  that  magnificently 
arrayed  audience,  was  the  idealization  of  a  look  to  inspire 
armies.  When  Captain  French  (to  whom  we  make  our 
admiring  compliments)  rose  in  the  far  gallery,  and  insisted  on 
being  heard,  while  he  offered  a  thousand  dollars  from  the 
Fusileers  to  the  cause,  would  any  one  have  doubted  that  the 
life's  blood  of  those  fine  fellows  would  have  come  as  easy^  with 
opportunity  ? 

We  stop  with  this  mere  description.  The  Kossuth  ques- 
tions are  discussed  sufficiently  elsewhere.  Our  object  has 
been  to  aid  the  distant  reader  in  imagining  the  personal  appear- 
ance of  the  man  whose  thoughts  of  lightning  reach  them, 
gleaming  gloriously  even  through  the  clouds  of  impoverished 
language  on  which  they  travel.  We  close  with  a  prayer — 
God  keep  Kossuth  to  take  the  field  for  Hungary! 


DEATH    OF    LADY    B  LE  S  SINGT  ON. 


The  Parisian  correspondent  of  the  London  Morning  Post 
thus  makes  the  first  mention  of  this  unexpected  event : — 

"  We  have  all  been  much  shocked  this  afternoon  by  the  sud- 
den death  of  Lady  Blessington.  Her  ladyship  dined  yester- 
day with  the  Duchess  de  Grammont,  and  returned  home  late 
in  her  usual  health  and  spints.  In  the  course  of  this  morning 
she  felt  unwell,  and  her  homoeopathic  medical  adviser,  Dr. 
Simon,  was  sent  for.  After  a  short  consultation,  the  doctor 
announced  that  his  patient  was  dying  of  apoplexy,  and  his 
sad  prediction  was  unhappily  verified  but  too  rapidly,  as  her 
ladyship  expired  in  his  arms  about  an  hour  and  a  half  ago." 

(454) 


LADY  BLESSINGTON.  ^gg 


We  doubt  whether  a  death  could  have  taken  place,  in  private 
life,  in  Europe,  that  would  have  made  a  more  vivid  sensation 
than  this,  or  have  been  more  sincerely  regretted.  Indeed, 
a  possessor  of  more  power,  in  its  most  attractive  shape,  could 
hardly  have  been  named,  in  life  public  or  private — for  the 
extent  of  Lady  Blessington's  friendships  with  distin- 
guished men  of  every  nation,  quality,  character,  rank  and 
creed,  was  without  a  parallel.  Her  friends  were  carefully 
chosen — but,  once  admitted  to  her  intimacy,  they  never  were 
neglected  and  never  lessened  in  their  attachment  to  her.  She 
has  a  circle  of  mourners,  at  this  moment,  in  which  there  is 
more  genius,  more  distinction,  and  more  sincere  sorrowing, 
than  has  embalmed  a  name  within  the  lapse  of  a  century. 
Noblemen,  statesmen,  soldiers,  church-dignitaries,  poets  and 
authors,  artists,  actors,  musicians,  bankers, — a  galaxy  of  the 
best  of  their  diiferent  stations  and  pursuits — have  received, 
with  tears  at  the  door  of  the  heart,  the  first  intelligence  of 
her  death. 

The  deceased  will  have  a  biographer — no  doubt  an  able  and 
renowned  one.  Bulwer,  who  enjoyed  her  friendship  as  inti- 
mately, perhaps,  for  the  last  ten  years  of  her  life,  as  any  other 
man,  might  describe  her  best,  and  is  not  likely  to  leave,  undone, 
a  task  so  obviously  his  own.  Without  hoping  to  anticipate, 
at  all,  the  portraiture,  by  an  abler  hand,  of  this  remarkable 
woman,  we  may  venture  to  send  to  our  readers  this  first 
announcement  of  her  death,  accompanied  with  such  a  sketch 
of  her  qualities  of  mind  and  heart  as  our  own  memory, 
of  the  acquaintance  we  had  the  privilege  of  enjoying,  enables 
US  easily  to  draw. 

Lady  Blessington,  as  her  writings  show,  was  not  a  woman 


456  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

ut*  genius  iu  the  creative  sense  of  the  term.     She  lias  origin- 
ated nothing  that  would,  of  itself,  have  made  a  mark  upon 
the  age  she  lived  in.     Her  peculiarity  lay  in  the  curiously 
felicitous  combination  of  the  best  qualities  of  the  two  sexes,  in 
her  single  character  as  it  came  from  nature.     She  had  .the 
cool  common  sense  and  intrepid  uusubserviency  which  toge- 
ther give  a  man  the  best  social  superiority,  and  she  had  tho 
tact,  the  delicacy  and  the  impassioned  devotedness  which  are 
essentials  in  the  finest  compounds  of  woman.     She  did  not 
know  what  fear  was, — either  of  persons  or  of  opinions, — and 
it  was    as   like   herself  when  she  shook  her  gloved  fist  in 
defiance  at  the   mob  in  Whitehall,  on  their  threatening  to 
break  her  carriage  windows  if  she  drove  through,  as  it  was 
to  return  to  London  after  her  long  residence  on  the  continent, 
and  establish  herself  as  the  centre  of  a  society  from  which  her 
own  sex  were  excluded.     Under  more  guarded  and  fortunate 
circumstances  of  early  life,  and  had  she  attained  "  the  age  of 
discretion"  before  taking  any  decided  step,  she  would  probu 
bly  have  been  one  of  those  guiding  stars  of  individualism 
in  common  hfe,  alike  peculiar,   admirable  and  irreproachable. 
Lady  Blessington's  generous  estimate  of  what  services  were 
due   in  friend&}iip — her   habitual  conduct  in  such  relations 
amounting  to  a  romantic  chivalry   of  devotedness — bound  to 
her  with  a  naturalness  of  affection  not  very  common  in  that 
class   of  life,  those   who   formed  the  circle  of  her  intimacy. 
She  did  not  wait  to  be  solicited.     Her  tact  and  knowledge  of 
the  world  enabled  her  to  understand,  with  a  truth  that  some- 
times seemed  like  divination,  the  position  of  a  friend  at  the 
moment  —  bis  hopes  and    difficulties,  his  wants  and   capa^ 
bilities.     She  had  a  much  larger  influence  than  was  generally 


LADY    BLESSINGTON. 


467 


supposed,  with  persons  in  power,  who  were  not  of  her  known 
acquaintance,  many  an  important  spring  of  political  and  social 
movement  was  unsuspectedly  within  her  control.  She  could 
aid  ambition,  promote  literary  distinction,  remove  difficulties  in 
society  which  she  did  not  herself  frequent,  serve  artists,  har- 
monize and  prevent  misunderstandings,  and  give  valuable 
counsel  on  almost  any  subject^hat  could  come  up  in  the  career 
of  a  man,  with  a  skill  and  a  control  of  resources  of  which  few 
had  any  idea.  Many  a  one  of  her  brilliant  and  unsurpassed 
dinners  had  a  kindly  object  which  its  titled  guests  little 
dreamed  of,  but  which  was  not  forgotten  for  a  moment,  amid 
the  wit  and  eloquence  that  seemed  so  purposeless  and  impul- 
sive. On  some  errand  of  good  will  to  others,  her  superb 
equipage,  the  most  faultless  thing  of  its  kind  in  the  world, 
was  almost  invariably  bound,  when  gazed  after  in  the  streets 
of  London.  Princes  and  noblemen,  (who,  as  well  as  poets 
and  artists,  have  aim«  which  need  the  devotion  of  friendship,) 
were  the  objects  of  her  watchful  aid  and  ministration ;  and  w-e 
doubt,  indeed,  whether  any  woman  lived,  who  was  so  valuable 
a  friend  to  so  many,  setting  aside  the  high  careers  that  were 
influenced  among  them,  and  the  high  station  and  rank  that 
were  befriended  with  no  more  assiduity  than  lesser  ambitions 
and  distinctions. 

The  conversation,  at  the  table  in  Gore  House,  was  allowed 
to  be  the  most  brilliant  in  Europe,  but  Lady  Blessington 
herself  seldom  took  the  lead  in  it.  Her  manners  were  such 
as  to  put  every  one  at  his  ease,  and  her  absolute  tact  at  sug- 
gestion and  change  of  topics,  made  any  one  shine  who  had  it 
in  him,  when  she  chose  to  call  it  forth.  She  had  the  display 
of  her  guests  as  completely  under  her  hand  as  the  pianist  his 

20 


458  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

keys;  and,  forgetful  of  herself — giving  the  most  earnest  and 
appreciative  attention  to  others — she  seemed  to  desire  no 
share  in  the  happiness  of  the  hour  except  that  of  making  each, 
in  his  way,  show  to  advantage.  If  there  was  any  impulse  of 
her  mind  to  which  she  gave  way  with  a  feeling  of  carelessness, 
it  was  to  the  love  ofhumor  in  her  Irish  nature,  and  her  mirth- 
fulness  at  such  moments,  was  most  joyously  unrestrained  and 
natural. 

In  1835,  when  we  first  saw  Lady  Blessington,  she  confessed 
to  forty,  and  was  then  exceedingly  handsome.  Her  beauty, 
it  is  true,  was  was  more  in  pose  and  demeanor  than  in  the 
features  of  her  face,  but  she  produced  the  full  impression  of 
great  beauty.  Her  mouth  was  the  very  type  of  freshness  and 
frankness.  The  irregularity  of  her  nose  gave  a  vivacity  to  her 
expression,  and  her  thin  and  pliant  nostrils  added  a  look  of 
spirit  which  was  unmistakable,  but  there  was  a  steady  pene- 
tration in  the  character  of  her  eye  which  threw  a  singular 
earnestness  and  sincerity  over  all.  Like  Victoria,  Tom 
Moore,  the  Duke  of  Wellington  and  Grisi,  she  sat  tall — her 
body  being  longer  in  proportion  than  her  limbs — and,  proba- 
bly from  some  little  sensitiveness  on  this  point,  she  was  sel- 
dom seen  walking.  Her  grace  of  posture  in  her  carriage 
struck  the  commonest  observer,  and,  seated  at  her  table,  or  in 
the  gold  and  satin  arm-chair  in  her  drawing-room,  she  was 
majestically  elegant  and  dignified.  Of  the  singular  beauty  of 
her  hands  and  arms,  celebrated  as  they  were  in  poetry  and 
sculpture,  she  seemed  at  least  unconscious,  and  used  them 
carelessly,  gracefully  and  expressively,  in  the  gestures  of  con- 
versation. At  the  time  we  speak  of,  she  was  in  perfect  ma- 
turity of  proportion  and  figure,  but  beginning,  even  then,  to 


LADY  BLESSINGTON.  ^gg 


conceal,  by  a  peculiar  cap,  the  increasing  fullness  under  her 
chin.  Her  natural  tendency  to  plethora  was  not  counteracted 
by  exercise,  and  when  we  saw  her  last,  two  years  ago,  she 
was  exceedingly  altered  from  her  former  self,  and  had  evi- 
dently given  up  to  an  indolence  of  personal  habits  which  has 
since  ended  in  apoplexy  and  death. 

There  is  an  ignorance  with  regard  to  the  early  history  of 
this  distinguished  woman,  and  a  degree  of  misrepresentation 
in  the  popular  report  of  her  life  in  later  years,  which  a  sim- 
ple statement  of  the  outline  of  her  career  will  properly  correct. 
Her  death  takes  away  from  her  friends  the  freedom  of  speak- 
ing carelessly  of  her  faults,  but  it  binds  them,  also,  to  guard 
her  memory  as  far  as  Truth  can  do  it,  from  injustice  and  perr 
version. 

Lady  Blessington's  maiden  name  was  Margaret  Power. 
She  was  born  in  Ireland,  the  daughter  of  the  printer  and  edit- 
or of  the  Clonmel  Her  aid ,  and  up  to  the  age  of  twelve  or 
fourteen,  (as  we  once  heard  her  say)  had  hardly  worn  a  shoe 
or  been  in  a  house  where  there  was  a  carpet.  At  this  age  of 
her  girlhood,  however,  she  and  her  sister  (who  was  afterwards 
Lady  Canterbury)  were  fancied  by  a  family  of  wealthy  old 
maids,  to  whom  they  were  distantly  related,  and  taken  to  a 
home  where  they  proved  apt  scholars  in  the  knowledge  of 
luxury  and  manners.  On  their  return  to  Clonraei,  two  young 
girls  of  singular  beauty,  they  became  at  once  the  attraction  of 
a  dashing  English  regiment  newly  stationed  there,  and  Mar- 
garet was  soon  married  to  an  officer  by  the  name  of  Farmer. 
From  this  hasty  connection,  into  which  she  was  crowded  by 
busy  and  ambitious  friends,  sprang  all  the  subsequent  canker 
of  her  life.     Her  husband  proved  to  be  liable  to  temporary  in- 


460       FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

sanity,  and,  at  best,  was  cruel  and  capricious.  Others  were 
kinder  and  more  attentive.  She  was  but  sixteen.  Flying 
from  her  husband  who  was  pursuing  her  with  a  pistol  in  his 
hand  to  take  her  life,  she  left  her  home,  and,  in  the  retreat 
where  she  took  refuge,  was  found  by  a  wealthy  and  accom- 
plished oflBcer,  who  had  long  been  her  admirer,  and  whose 
"  protection  "  she  now  fatally  accepted. 

With  this  gentleman,  Captain  Jenkinson,  she  lived  four 
years  in  complete  seclusion.  His  return  to  dissipated  habits, 
at  the  end  of  that  time,  destroyed  his  fortune  and  brought 
about  a  separation ;  and,  her  husband,  meantime,  having  died, 
she  received  an  offer  of  marriage  from  Lord  Blessington,  who 
was  then  a  widower  with  one  daughter.  She  refused  the 
offer,  at  first,  from  delicate  motives,  easily  understood : 
but  it  was  at  last  pressed  on  her  acceptance,  and  she  married 
and  went  abroad. 

Received  into  the  best  society  of  the  continent  at  once,  and 
with  her  remarkable  beauty  and  her  husband's  enormous 
wealth,  entering  upon  a  most  brilliant  career,  she  became, 
easily  an  accomplished  woman  of  the  world,  and  readily  sup- 
plied for  herself,  any  deficiencies  in  her  early  education.  It 
was  during  this  first  residence  in  Paris  that  Lord  Blessington 
became  exceedingly  attached  to  Count  Alfred  D'Orsay,  the 
Ijandsomest  and  most  talented  young  nobleman  of  France. 
Determined  not  to  be  separated  from  one  he  declared  he 
could  not  live  without,  he  aflSanced  his  daughter  to  him,  per- 
suaded his  father  to  let  him  give  up  his  commission  in  the 
army,  and  fairly  adopted  him  into  his  fiimily  to  share  his  for- 
tune with  him  as  a  son.  They  soon  left  Paris  for  Italy,  and 
at  Genoa  fell  in  with  Lord  Byron,  who  was  a  friend  of  Lord 


LADY  BLESSINGTON. 


461 


Blessington's,  and  with  whom  they  mado  a  party,  for  residence 
in  that  beautiful  climate,  the  delightful  socialities  of  which 
are  well  described  in  her  Ladyship's  "  Conversations." 

A  year  or  two  afterwards.  Lord  Blessington's  daughter 
came  to  him  from  school,  and  was  married  to  Count  D'Oraay 
at  Naples.  The  union  proved  inharmonious,  and  they  separ- 
ated, after  living  but  a  year  together.  Lord  Blessington  died 
soon  after,  and,  on  Lady  Blessington's  return  to  England,  the 
Count  rejoined  her,  and  they  formed  but  one  household  till 
her  death. 

It  was  this  residence  of  Lord  Blessington's  widow  and  her 
son-in-law  under  the  same  roof — he,  meantime,  separated  from 
his  wife,  Lady  Harriet  D'Orsay — which,  by  the  English 
code  of  appearances  in  morals,  compromised  the  position  of 
Lady  Blessington,  She  chose  to  disregard  public  opinion, 
where  it  interfered  with  what  she  deliberately  made  up  her 
mind  was  best,  and,  disdaining  to  explain  or  submit,  guarded 
against  slight  or  injury,  by  excluding  from  her  house  all  who 
would  condemn  her,  viz  : — her  own  sex.  Yet  all  who  knew 
her  and  her  son-in-law,  were  satisfied  that  it  was  a  useful  and, 
indeed,  absolutely  necessary  arrangement  for  him — her  strict 
business  habits,  practical  good  sense,  and  the  protection  of 
her  roof,  being  an  indispensable  safe-guard  to  his  personal 
liberty  and  fortunes— and  that  this  need  of  serving  him  and 
the  strongest  and  most  disinterested  friendship  were  her  only 
motives,  every  one  was  completely  sure  who  knew  them  at  all. 
By  those  intimate  at  her  house,  including  the  best  and  great- 
est men  of  England,  Lady  Blessington  was  held  in  unqual- 
ified respect,  and  no  shadow  even  of  suspicion,  thrown  over 
her  life  of  widowhood.     She  had  many  entreaties  from  her 


462        FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES 


own  sex  to  depart  from  her  resolve  and  interchange  visits, 
and  we  chanced  to  be  at  her  house,  one  morning,  when  a  note 
was  handed  to  her  from  one  of  the  most  distinguished  noble 
ladies  of  England,  making  such  a  proposal.  We  saw  the 
reply.  It  expresbed,  with  her  felicitous  tact,  a  full  apprecia- 
tion of  the  confidence  and  kindness  of  the  note  she  had  receiv- 
ed, but  decHned  its  request,  from  an  unwillingness  to  place 
herself  in  any  position  where  she  might,  by  the  remotest  pos- 
sibility, suffer  from  doubt  or  injustice.  She  persevered  in  this 
to  the  end  of  her  life,  a  few  relatives  and  one  or  two  intimates 
of  her  continental  acquaintance  being  the  only  ladies  seen  at 
her  house.  When  seized  with  her  last  illness,  she  had  been 
dining  with  Count  D'Orsay's  sister,  the  beautiful  Duchess  de 
Grammont. 

Faulty  as  a  portion  of  Lady  Blessington's  life  may  have 
been,  we  doubt  whether  a  wom^n  has  lived,  in  her  time,  who 
did  so  many  actions  of  truest  kindness,  and  whose  life  alto- 
gether was  80  benevolently  and  largely  instrumental  for  the 
happiness  of  others.  With  the  circumstances  that  bore  upon 
her  destiny,  with  her  beauty,  her  fascination  and  her  bound- 
less influence  over  all  men  who  approached  her,  she  might 
easily,  almost  excusably,  have  left  a  less  worthy  memory  to 
fame.  Few  in  their  graves,  now,  deserve  a  more  honoring 
remembrance. 


MOORE  AND  BARBY  CORNWALL. 


Well — how  does  Moore  write  a  song  ? 

In  the  twilight  of  a  September  evening  he  strolls  through 

the  park  to  dine  with  the  marquis.     As  he  draws  on  his  white 

gloves,  he  sees  the  evening  star  looking  at  him  steadily  through 

the  long  vista  of  the  avenue,  and  he  construes  its  punctual 

dispensation  of  light  into  a  reproach  for  having,  himself  a  star, 

passed  a  day  of  poetic  idleness.     "  Damme,"  soliloquizes  the 

little  fat  planet,  '*  this  will  never  do !     Here  have  I  hammered 

the  whole  morning  at  a  worthless  idea,  that,  with  the  mere 

prospect  of  a  dinner,  shows  as  trumpery  as  a  '  penny  fairing.' 

Labor  wasted  1     And  at  my  time  of  life,  too  1     Faith  ! — it's 

dining  at  home  these  two  days  with  nobody  to  drink  with  me  1 

[463] 


464  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

It's  eyewater  I  want !     Don't  trouble  yourself  to  sit  up  for 
me,  brother  Hesper  !     I  shall  see  clearer  when  I  come  back  I 

'  Bad  are  the  rhymes 
I'hat  scorn  old  wine.' 

as  my  friend  Barry  sings.     Poetry  ?    hum !     Claret  ?    Pri- 
thee, call  it  claret !" 

And  Moore  is  mistaken  !  He  draws  his  inspiration,  it  is 
true,  with  the  stem  of  a  glass  between  his  thumb  and  finger, 
but  the  wine  is  the  least  stimulus  to  his  brain.  He  talks  and 
is  listened  to  admiringly,  and  that  is  his  Castaly.  He  sits  next 
to  Lady  Fanny  at  dinner,  who  thinks  him  an  *'  adorable  little 
love,"  and  he  employs  the  first  two  courses  in  making  her  in  love 
with  herself,  i.  e.,  blowing  everything  she  says  up  to  the  red 
heat  of  poetry.  Moore  can  do  this,  for  the  most  stupid  things 
on  earth  are,  after  all,  the  beginnings  of  ideas,  and  every  fool 
is  susceptible  of  the  flattery  of  seeing  the  words  go  straight 
from  his  lips  to  the  "  highest  heaven  of  invention."  And  Lady 
Fanny  is  not  a  fool,  but  a  quick  and  appreciative  woman,  and 
to  almost  everything  she  says,  the  poet's  trump  is  a  germ  of 
poetry.  "  Ah  !"  says  Lady  Fanny  with  a  sigh,  "  this  will  be 
a  memorable  dinner — not  to  you,  but  to  me;  for  you  see 
pretty  women  every  day,  but  I  seldom  see  Tom  Moore  !"  The 
poet  looks  into  Lady  Fanny's  eyes  and  makes  no  immediate 
answer.  Presently  she  asks,  with  a  delicious  look  of  simplicity, 
"  Are  you  as  agreeable  to  everybody,  Mr.  Moore  ?" — "  There 
is  but  one  Lady  Fanny,"  replies  the  poet ;  "  or,  to  use  your 
own  beautiful  simile,  '  The  moon  sees  many  brooks,  but  the 
brook  sees  but  one  miX)n  !  (Mem.  jot  that  down.)  And  so 
is  treasured  up  one  idea  for  the  morrow,  and  when  the  mar- 


MOORE.  465 


chioness  rises,  and  the  ladies  follow  her  to  the  drawing-room, 
Moore  finds  himself  sandwiched  between  a  couple  of  whig 
lords,  and  opposite  a  past  or  future  premier — an  audience  of 
cultivation,  talent,  scholarship,  and  appreciation ;  and  as  the 
fresh  pitcher  of  claret  is  passed  round,  all  regards  radiate  to 
the  Anacreon  of  the  world,  and  with  that  Sanction  of  expecta- 
tion, let  alone  Tom  Moore.  Even  our  "  Secretary  of  the 
Navy  and  National  Songster"  would  "turn  out  his  lining" — 
such  as  it  is.  And  Moore  is  delightful,  and  with  his  "  As  you 
say,  my  lord  !"  he  gives  birth  to  a  constellation  of  bright 
things,  no  one  of  which  is  dismissed  with  the  claret.  Every 
one  at  the  table,  except  Moore,  is  subject  to  the  hour — to  its 
enthusiasm,  its  enjoyment — but  the  hour  is  to  Moore  a  pre- 
cious slave.  So  is  the  wine.  It  works  for  him !  It  brings 
him  money  from  Longman !  It  plays  his  trumpet  in  the 
reviews  !  It  is  his  filter  among  the  ladies  !  Well  may  he  sing 
its  praises  !  Of  all  the  poets,  Moore  is  probably  the  only  one 
who  is  thus  master  of  his  wine.  The  glorious  abandon  with 
which  we  fancy  him,  a  brimming  glass  in  his  hand,  singing 
"  Fly  not  yet !"  exists  only  in  the  fancy.  He  keeps  a  cool 
head  and  coins  bis  conviviality ;  and  to  revert  to  my  former 
figure,  they  who  wish  to  know  what  Moore's  electricity 
amounts  to  without  the  convivial  friction,  may  read  his  history 
of  Ireland.  Not  a  sparkle  in  it,  from  the  landing  of  the  Phe- 
nicians  to  the  battle  of  Vinegar  Hill !  He  wrote  that  as  other 
people  write — with  nothing  left  from  the  day  before  but  the 
habit  of  labor — and  the  travel  of  a  collapsed  balloon  on  a 
man's  back,  is  not  more  unlike  the  same  thing,  inflated  and 
soaring,  than  Tom  Moore,  historian,  and  Tom  Moore,  bard ! 
Somewhere  in  the  small  hours  the  poet  walks  home,  and  sit- 
20* 


466  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

ting  down  soberly  in  his  little  library,  he  puts  on  paper  the 
half-score  SQintillations  that  collision,  in  one  shape  or  another, 
has  struck  into  the  tinder  of  his  fancy.  If  read  from  this 
paper,  the  world  would  probably  think  little  of  their  prospect 
of  ever  becoming  poetry.  But  the  mysterious  part  is  done — 
the  life  is  breathed  into  the  chrysalis — and  the  clothing  of 
these  naked  fancies  with  winged  words,  Mr.  Moore  knows  very 
well  can  be  done  in  very  uninspired  moods  by  patient  indus- 
try. Most  people  have  very  little  idea  what  that  industry  is — 
how  deeply  language  is  ransacked,  how  often  turned  over, 
how  untiringly  rejected  and  recalled  with  some  new  combina- 
tion, how  resolutely  sacrificed  when  only  tolerable  enough  to 
pass,  how  left  untouched  day  after  day  in  the  hope  of  a  fresh 
impulse  after  repose.  The  vexation  of  a  Chinese  puzzle  is 
slight,  probably,  to  that  which  Moore  has  expended  on  some 
of  his  most  natural  and  flowing  single  verses.  The  exquisite 
nicety  of  his  ear,  though  it  eventually  gives  his  poetry  its 
honied  fluidity,  gives  him  no  quicker  choice  of  words,  nor  does 
more,  in  any  way,  than  pass  inexorable  judgment  on  what  his 
industry  brings  forward.  Those  who  think  a  song  dashed  off 
like  an  invitation  to  dinner,  would  be  edified  by  the  progres 
sive  phases  of  a  "  Moore's  Melody."  Taken  with  all  its  re- 
writings,  emendations,  &c.,  I  doubt  whether,  in  his  most  indus- 
trious seclusion,  Moore  averages  a  couplet  a  day.  Yet  this 
persevering,  resolute,  unconquerable  patience  of  labor  is  the 
secret  of  his  fame.  Take  the  best  thing  he  ever  wrote,  and 
translate  its  sentiments  and  similitudes  into  plain  prose,  and  do 
the  thing  by  a  song  of  any  second-rate  imitator  of  Moore,  one 
abstract  would  read  as  well  as  the  other.  Yet  Moore's  song 
is  immortal,  and  the  other  ephemeral  as  a  paragraph  in  a  news- 


BARRY  CORNWALL. 


467 


paper,  and  the  difference  consists  in  a  patient  elaboration  of 
language  and  harmony,  and  in  that  only.  And  even  thus 
short,  seenis  the  space  between  the  ephemeron  and  the  im- 
mortal. But  it  is  wider  than  they  think,  oh,  glorious  Tom 
Moore  1 

And  how  does  Barry  Cornwall  write  ? 

I  answer,  from  the  efflux  of  his  soul  I  Poetry  is  not  labor 
to  him.  He  works  at  law — he  plays,  relaxes,  luxuriates  in  poe- 
try. Mr.  Proctor  has  at  no  moment  of  his  life,  probably,  after 
finishing  a  poetic  effusion,  designed  ever  to  write  another  line. 
No  more  than  the  sedate  man,  who,  walking  on  the  edge  of  a 
playground,  sees  a  ball  coming  directly  towards  him,  and 
seized  suddenly  with  a  boyish  impulse,  jumps  aside  and  sends 
it  whizzing  back,  as  he  had  not  done  for  twenty  years,  with 
his  cane — no  more  than  that  unconscious  schoolboy  of  four- 
score (thank  God  there  are  many  such  live  coals  under  the 
ashes)  thinks  he  shall  play  again  at  ball.  Proctor  is  a  pros- 
perous barrister,  drawing  a  large  income  from  his  profession. 
He  married  the  daughter  of  Basil  Montague  (well  known  as 
the  accomplished  scholar,  and  the  friend  of  Coleridge,  Lamb, 
and  that  bright  constellation  of  spirits,)  and  with  a  family  of 
children  of  whom,  the  world  knows,  he  is  passionately  fond,  he 
leads  a  more  domestic  life,  or,  rather,  a  life  more  within  him- 
self and  his  ow^n,  than  any  author,  present  or  past,  with  whose 
habits  I  am  conversant.  He  has  drawn  his  own  portrait; 
however,  in  outline,  and  as  far  as  it  goes,  nothing  could  be 
truer.     In  an  epistle  to  his  friend  Charles  Lamb,  he  says  :^ 

"  Seated  beside  this  Sherris  wine, 
And  near  to  books  and  shapes  divine, 
Which  poets  and  the  painters  past 


468  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


Have  wrought  in  line  that  aye  shall  last, — 
E'en  I,  with  Shakspere's  self  beside  me, 
And  one  whose  tender  talk  can  guide  me 
Through  fears  and  pains  and  troublous  themes, 
Whose  smile  doth  fall  upon  my  dreams 
Like  sunshine  on  a  stormy  sea,****** 

Proctor  slights  the  world's  love  for  his  wife  and  books,  and, 
as  might  be  expected,  the  world  only  plies  him  the  more  with 
its  caresses.  He  is  now  and  then  seen  in  the  choicest  circles 
of  London,  where,  though  love  and  attention  mark  most  flat- 
teringly the  rare  pleasure  of  his  presence,  he  plays  a  retired 
and  silent  part,  and  steals  early  away.  His  library  is  his  Par- 
adise. His  enjoyment  of  literature  should  be  mentioned  as 
often  in  his  biography  as  the  "  feeding  among  the  lilies  "  in 
the  Songs  of  Solomon.  He  forgets  himself,  he  forgets  the 
world  in  his  favorite  authors,  and  that,  I  fancy,  was  the  golden 
link  in  his  friendship  with  Lamb.  Surrounded  by  exquisite 
specimens  of  art,  (he  has  a  fine  taste,  and  is  much  beloved  by 
artists,)  a  choice  book  in  his  hand,  his  wife  beside  him,  and 
the  world  shut  out,  Barry  is  in  the  meridian  of  his  true  orbit. 
Ob,  then,  a  more  loving  and  refined  spirit  is  not  breathing  be 
neath  the  stars !  He  reads  and  muses  ;  and  as  something  in 
the  pages  stirs  some  distant  association,  suggests  some  brighter 
image  than  its  own,  he  half  loans  over  to  the  table,  and  scrawls 
it  in  unstudied  but  inspired  verse.  He  thinks  no  more  of  it. 
You  might  have  it  to  light  your  cigar.  But  there  sits  by  his 
side  one  who  knows  its  value,  and  it  is  treasured.  Here,  for 
instance,  in  the  volume  I  have  spoken  of  before,  are  some  forty 
pages  of  '*  fragments  " — thrown  in  to  eke  out  the  volume  of  his 
Bongs.  I  am  sure,  that  when  he  was  making  up  his  book,  per- 
haps expressing  a  fear  that  there  would  not  be  pages  enough 


BARRY  CORNWALL.  459 

for  the  publisher's  design,  these  fragments  were  produced 
from  their  secret  hiding-place  to  his  great  surprise.  The  quo- 
tations I  have  made  were  all  from  this  portion  of  his  volume, 
and,  as  I  said  before,  they  are  worthy  of  Shakspere.  There 
is  no  mark  of  labor  in  them.  I  do  not  believe  there  was  an 
erasure  in  the  entire  manuscript.  They  bear  all  the  marks  of 
a  sudden,  unstudied  impulse,  immediately  and  unhesitatingly 
expressed.  Here  are  several  fragments.  How  evident  it  is 
that  they  were  suggested  directly  by  his  reading : — 

"  She  was  a  princess — but  she  fell ;  and  now 
Her  shame  goes  blushing  through  a  line  of  kings. 

******* 

Sometimes  a  deep  thought  crossed 
My  fancy,  like  the  sullen  bat  that  flies 

Athwart  the  melancholy  moon  at  eve. 
****** 

Let  not  thy  tale  tell  but  of  stormy  sorrows  ! 

She — who  was  late  a  maid,  but  now  doth  lie 

In  Hymen's  bosom,  like  a  rose  grown  pale, 

A  sad,  sweet  wedded  wife — why  is  she  left 

Out  of  the  story  ?     Are  good  deeds — great  griefs, 

That  live  but  ne'er  complain — naught  ?  What  are  tears? — 

Remorse  ? — deceit  ?  at  best  weak  water  drops 

Which  wash  out  the  bloom  of  sorrow. 
******* 

Is  she  dead  ? 
Why  so  shall  I  be — ere  these  autumn  blasts 
Have  blown  on  the  beard  of  winter.     Is  she  dead  ? 
Aye,  she  is  dead — quite  dead  !     The  wild  sea  kissed  her 
With  its  cold,  white  lips,  and  then — put  her  to  sleep : 
She  has  a  sand  pillow,  and  a  water  sheet, 
And  never  turns  her  head,  or  knows  'tis  morning  I 
******* 

Mark,  when  he  died,  his  tombs,  his  epitaphs  I 
Men  did  not  pluck  the  ostrich  for  his  sake, 


470        FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


Nor  dyed 't  in  sable.     No  black  steeds  were  there, 
Caparisoned  in  wo  ;  no  hired  crowds ; 
No  hearse,  wherein  the  crumbling  clay  (imprisoned 
Like  ammunition  in  a  tumbril)  rolled 
Rattling  along  the  street,  and  silenced  grief; 
No  arch  whereon  the  bloody  laurel  hung  ; 
No  stone  ;  no  gilded  verse  ; — poor  common  shows  ! 
But  tears  and  tearful  words,  and  sighs  as  deep 
As  sorrow  is — these  were  his  epitaphs  ! 
Thus — (fitly  graced) — he  lieth  now,  inurned 
In  hearts  that  loved  him,  on  whose  tender  sides 
Are  graved  his  many  virtues.     When  they  perish, 
He's  lost ! — and  so't  should  be.     The  poet's  name* 
And  hero's — on  the  brazen  book  of  Time, 
Are  writ  in  sunbeams,  by  Fame's  loving  hand ; 
But  none  record  the  household  virtues  there. 
These  better  sleep  (when  all  dear  friends  are  fled) 
In  endless  and  serene  oblivion. 
♦  *  *  *  *  «         -  « 


JANE  POETER, 


AUTHORESS  OF  "  SCOTTISH  CHIEFS 

ETC.,  ETC 


This  distinguished  woman  died  recently  at  Bristol,  England, 
at  the  age  of  seventy-four.  We  shall,  doubtless,  soon  have  an 
authentic  biography  of  her,  from  some  one  to  whom  her  papers 
and  other  materials  will  have  been  entrusted  by  the  brother 
who  survives  her ;  but,  meantime,  let  us  yield  to  the  tide  of 
remembrance  which  her  death  has  awakened,  and  arrest,  ere 
they  float  by  and  are  lost,  the  scattered  leaf-memories  that  may 
recal  the  summers  when  we  knew  her.  For  the  sixteen  years 
that  we  enjoyed  the  privilege  of  her  friendship,  her  corre- 
spondence with  us  was  interrupted  only  by  illness,  and  we  hope 
yet  to  find  the  leisure  to  put  some  of  those  high-thoughted  and 

invaluable  letters  into  print — true  reflex  as  they  are  of  the 

[471] 


472        •  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

lofty  and  true  mind  which  made  her  fame.  Our  present 
memoranda  will  be  brief,  with  a  view  to  that  better  justice  to 
the  theme. 

We  first  saw  Miss  Porter  at  the  house  of  Lady  S ,  the 

sister  of  I^ady  Franklin,  a  few  weeks  after  our  first  arrival  in 
London,  in  1834.  It  was  at  a  largo  party,  thronged  with  the 
scientific  and  literary  persons  who  form  the  society  of  a  man 
like  Sir  John  Franklin.  The  great  navigator,  whose  fate  now 
excites  so  deep  an  interest,  was  present,  and  he  was  almost 
the  only  celebrity  in  the  room  whom  we  did  not  then  see  for 
the  first  time — Sir  John  having  been  in  command  of  the  Eng- 
lish fleet  in  the  Mediterranean,  and  Lady  Franklin  at  Athens 
when  we  chanced  to  be  there.  The  noble  head  and  majestic 
frame  of  the  fine  old  sailor  showed  in  strong  relief,  even  among 
the  great  men  who  surrounded  him,  and  we  well  remember 
the  confirmed  impression,  of  his  native  dignity  and  superiority 
of  presence,  which  we  received  at  that  time. 

A  very  tall  lady,  apparently  about  fifty  years  of  age,  had 
arrested  our  attention  early  in  the  evening,  and,  whenever  un- 
occupied, we  found  ourself  turning  to  observe  her,  with  a  mag- 
netism which  we  could  not  resist.  She  was  dressed  completely 
in  black,  with  black  lace  upon  the  neck,  and  black  feathers 
drooping  over  the  knot  of  her  slightly  grey  hair.  Her  person 
was  very  erect,  and,  though  her  conversation  was  evidently  play- 
ful with  all  who  spoke  with  her,  there  was  an  exceeding  loftiness, 
and  an  air  of  unconscious  and  easy  nobility,  in  her  mien  and 
countenance,  which  was  truly  remarkable.  She  was  like  the 
ideal  which  one  forms  of  a  Lady  Abbess  of  noble  blood,  or  of 
Queen  Katharine.  The  deference  with  which  she  was  ad- 
dressed was  mingled  invariably  with  an  affectionate  cordiality, 


JANE  PORTER.  473 


hpwever,  which  puzzled  our  conjectures  a  little,  tor  it  is  not 
common  to  see  the  two  feelings  inspired  with  equal  certainty 
by  the  same  presence.  It  chanced  to  be  late  in  the  evening  be* 
fore  we  had  an  opportunity  of  enquiring  the  name  of  this 
lady,  and,  when  we  heard  who  she  was,  we  recognized  at  once 
that  very  unusual  phenomenon — a  complete  fitness  of  the 
outer  temple  to  the  fame  whose  deathless  lamp  is  enshrined 
within  it.  It  was  Jane  Porter,  and  she  looked  as  one  would 
have  expected  her  to  look,  who  had  conjured  up  her  image  by 
aid  of  magic,  after  being  carried  away  by  her  enchantments 
of  story. 

We  were  presented  to  Miss  Porter  by  Sir  John  Franklin, 
just  before  the  breaking  up  of  the  party  that  evening,  and, 
soon  after,  we  were  so  fortunate  as  to  be  a  guest,  with  her,  at 
one  of  those  English  country-houses  which  are  the  perfection 
of  luxury  and  refinement,  and  where  there  was  the  opportunity 
to  see  her  with  her  proper  surroundings.  Of  the  impression 
received  at  that  time,  we  have  already  made  a  slight  record, 
which  some  of  our  readers  may  remember  : — 

"  One  of  the  most  elegant  and  agreeable  persons  I  ever  saw 
was  Miss  Porter,  and  I  think  her  conversation  more  delight- 
ful to  remember  than  any  person's  I  ever  knew.  A  distin- 
guished artist  told  me  that  he  remembered  her  when  she  was 
his  beau  ideal  of  female  beauty ;  but  in  those  days  she  was 
more  "  fancy  rapt,"  and  gave  in  less  to  the  current  and  spirit 
of  society.  Age  has  made  her,  if  it  may  be  so  expressed,  less 
selfish  in  her  use  of  thought,  and  she  pours  it  forth  like  Pacto- 
lus — that  gold  which  is  sand  from  others.  She  is  still  what  I 
should  call  a  handsome  woman,  or,  if  that  be  not  allowed,  she 


474        FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


is  the  wreck  of  more  than  a  common  allotment  of  beauty,  and 
looks  it.  Her  person  is  remarkably  erect,  her  eyes  and  eye- 
lids (in  this  latter  resembling  Scott)  very  heavily  moulded,  and 
her  smile  is  beautiful.  It  strikes  me  that  it  always  is  so — 
where  it  ever  was.  The  smile  seems  to  be  the  work  of  the 
soul. 

"  I  have  passed  months  under  the  same  roof  with  Miss  Por- 
ter, and  nothing  gave  me  more  pleasure  than  to  find  the  com- 
pany in  that  hospitable  house  dwindled  to  a  "  fit  audience 
though  few,"  and  gathered  around  the  figure  in  deep  mourn- 
ing which  occupied  the  warmest  corner  of  the  sofa.  In  any 
vein,  and  apropos  to  the  gravest  and  the  gayest  subject,  her 
well  stored  mind  and  memory  flowed  forth  in  the  same  rich 
current  of  mingled  story  and  reflection,  and  I  never  saw  an 
impatient  listener  beside  her  I  recollect  one  evening  a  lady's 
singing  "  Auld  Robin  Gray,"  and  some  one  remarking  (rather 

unseutimentally,)  at  the  close,  "  By-the-by  what  is  Lady 

(the  authoress  of  the  ballad)  doing  with  so  many  carpenters 
Berkeley-square  is  quite  deafened  with   their  hammering  1' 

^^  Apropos  of  carpenters  and  Lady  ,"  said  Miss  Porter, 

"this  charming  ballad-writer  owes  something  to  the  craft. 
She  was  better-born  than  provided  with  the  gifts  of  fortune, 
and  in  her  younger  days  was  once  on  a  visit  to  a  noble  house, 
when,  to  her  dismay,  a  large  and  fashionable  company  arrived 
who  brought  with  them  a  mania  for  private  theatricals.  Her 
wardrobe  was  very  slender,  barely  suflScient  for  the  ordinary 
events  of  a  weekday,  and  her  purse  contained  one  solitary 
shilling.  To  leave  the  house  was  out  of  the  question,  to  feign 
illness  as  much  so,  and  to  decline  taking  a  part  was  impossible, 
for  her  talent  and  sprightliness  were  the  hope  of  the  theatre. 


JANE  PORTER.  475 


A  part  was  cast  for  her,  and,  in  despair,  she  excused  herself 
from  the  gay  party  bound  to  the  country  town  to  make  pur- 
chases of  silk  and  satin,  and  shut  herself  up,  a  prey  to  mortified 
low  spirits.  The  character  required  a  smart  village  dress,  and 
it  certainly  did  not  seem  that  it  could  come  out  of  a  shilling. 
She  sat  at  her  window,  biting  her  lips,  and  turning  over  in  her 
mind  whether  she  could  borrow  of  some  one,  when  her  atten- 
tion was  attracted  to  a  carpenter,  who  was  employed  in  the 
construction  of  a  stage  in  the  large  hall,  and  who,  in  the  court 
below,  was  turning  off  from  his  plane  broad  and  long  shavings 
of  a  peculiarly  striped  wood.  It  struck  her  that  it  was  like 
riband.  The  next  moment  she  was  below,  and  begged  of  the 
man  to  give  her  half-a-dozen  lengths  as  smooth  as  he  could 
shave  them.  He  performed  his  task  well,  and  depositing 
them  in  her  apartment,  she  set  off  alone  on  horseback  to  the 
village,  and  with  her  single  shilling  succeeded  in  purchasing  a 
chip  hat  of  the  coarsest  fabric.  She  carried  it  home,  exult- 
ingly,  trimmed  it  with  her  pine  shavings,  and  on  the  evening 
of  the  performance  appeared  with  a  white  dress,  and  hat  and 
belt  ribands  which  were  the  envy  of  the  audience.  The  suc- 
cess of  her  invention  gave  her  spirits  and  assurance,  and  she 
played  to  admiration.  The  sequel  will  justify  my  first  remark. 
She  made  a  conquest  on  that  night  of  one  of  her  titled  audi- 
tors, whom  she  afterward  married.  You  will  allow  that  Lady 
may  afford  to  be  tolerant  of  carpenters." 

It  was  two  years  after  this  first  meeting  of  Miss  Porter  at 
Park,  that  we  accepted  an  invitation  to  meet  her  at  the 


house  of  a  Baronet  in  Warwickshire,  and  of  that  visit  the  fol- 


476  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


lowing  mention   is   made  in   Sketches  of  Travel  already  pub 
lished : — 

"  I  remembered  a  promise  I  had  nearly  forgotten,  that  I 
would  reserve  my  visit  to  Stratford  till  I  could  be  accompanied 
by  Miss  J.  Porter,  whom  I  was  to  have  the  honor  of  meeting 
at  my  place  of  destination  ;  and  promising  an  early  acceptance 
of  the  landlady's  invitation,  I  hurried  on  to  my  appointment 
over  the  fertile  hills  of  Warwickshire. 

"  I  was  established  in  one  of  those  old  Elizabethan  country- 
houses  which  with  their  vast  parks,  their  self-suflScing  resources 
of  subsistence  and  company,  and  the  absolute  deference  shown 
on  all  sides  to  the  lord  of  the  manor,oive  one  the  impression  rather 
of  a  little  kingdom  with  a  castle  in  its  heart,  than  of  an  abode  for  a 
gentleman  subject.  The  house  itself  (called,  like  most  houses 
of  this  size  and  consequence  in  Warwickshire,  a  '  Court,')  was 
a  Gothic  half-castellated  square,  with  four  round  towers,  and 
innumerable  embrasures  and  windows ;  two  wings  in  front,  pro- 
bably more  modern  than  the  body  of  the  house,  and  again 
two  long  wings  extending  to  the  rear,  at  right  angles,  and 
enclosing  a  flowery  and  formal  parterre.  There  had  been  a 
trench  about  it,  now  filled  up,  and  at  a  short  distance  from 
the  house  stood  a  polyangular  and  massive  structure,  well  cal- 
culated for  defence,  and  intended  as  a  strong-hold  for  the  retreat 
of  the  family  and  tenants  in  more  troubled  times.  One  of  these 
rear  wings  enclosed  a  catholic  chapel,  for  the  worship  of  the 
baronet  and  those  of  his  tenants  who  professed  the  same  faith  ; 
while  on  the  northern  side,  betweeji  the  house  and  the  garden, 
stood  a  large,  protestant  stone  church,  with  a  turret  and  spire, 
both  chapel  and  church,  with  their  clergyman  and  priest,  depen- 


JANE  PORTER.  ^^ 


dant  on  the  estate,  and  equally  favored  by  the  liberal  and  high- 
minded  baronet.  The  tenantry  formed  two  considerable  con- 
gregations, and  lived  and  worshipped  side  by  side,  with  the 
most  perfect  harmony — an  instance  of  real  Christianity,  in 
my  opinion,  which  the  angels  of  heaven  might  come  down  to 
see.  A  lovely  rural  grave-yard  for  the  lord  and  tenants,  and 
a  secluded  lake  below  the  garden,  in  which  hundreds  of  wild 
ducks  swam  and  screamed  unmolested,  completed  the  outward 

features  of  C Court. 

"  There  are  noble  houses  in  England  with  a  door  commu- 
nicating from  the  dinmg-room  to  the  stables,  that  the  master 
and  his  friends  may  see  their  favorites,  after  dinner,  without 
exposure  to  the  weather.     In  the  place  of  this  rather  bizarre 

luxury,  the  oak-pannelled  and  spacious  dining-hall  of  C is 

on  a  level  with  the  organ  loft  of  the  chapel,  and  when  the 
cloth  is  removed,  the  large  door  between  is  thrown  open,  and 
the  noble  instrument  pours  the  rich  and  thrilling  music  of 
vespers  through  the  rooms.  When  the  service  is  concluded, 
and  the  lights  on  the  altar  extinguished,  the  blind  organist 
(an  accomplished  musician,  and  a  tenant  on  the  estate,)  con- 
tinues his  voluntaries  in  the  dark  untill  the  hall-door  informs 
him  of  the  retreat  of  the  company  to  the  drawingroom. 
There  is  not  only  refinement  and  luxury  in  this  beautiful, 
arrangement,  but  food  for  the  soul  and  heart. 

"  I  chose  my  room  from  among  the  endless  vacant  but  equally 
luxurious  chambers  of  the  rambling  old  house  ;  my  preference 
solely  directed  by  the  portrait  of  a  nun,  one  of  the  family  in 
ages  gone  by — a  picture  full  of  melancholy  beauty,  which 
hung  opposite  the  window.  The  face  w^as  distinguished  by  all 
that  in  England  marks  the  gentlewoman  of  ancient  and  pure 


478  FAMOUS  PiSSONS  AND  PLACES. 


descent;  and  while  it  was  a  woman  with  the  more  tender 
qualities  of  her  sex  breathing  through  her  features,  it  was  still 
a  lofty  and  sainted  sister,  true  to  her  cross,  and  sincere  in 
her  vows  and  seclusion.  It  was  the  work  of  a  master,  pro- 
bably Vandyke,  and  a  picture  in  which  the  most  solitary  man 
would  find  company  and  communion.  On  the  other  walls, 
and  in  most  of  the  other  rooms  and  corridors,  were  distributed 
portaits  of  the  gentlemen  and  soldiers  of  the  family,  most  of 
them  bearing  some  resemblance  to  the  nun,  but  diflfering,  as 
brothers  in  those  wild  times  may  be  supposed  to  havediffered, 
from  the  gentle  creatures  of  the  same  blood,  nursed  in  the 
privacy  of  peace." 

Warwick  Castle,  Stratford-on-Avon,  and  Kenilworth,  were 
all  within  the  reach  of  what  might  be  called  neighborhood, 
and  our  hospitable  host  (in  his  eightieth  year,  and  unable  to 
accompany  us,)  had  made  the  arrangements  for  our  visit  to 
these  places.  We  were  to  be  gone  three  days,  but  were  to 
remain  his  guests  in  all  respects.  The  carriage  was  packed 
with  the  books  which  might  be  needed  for  reference,  the  but- 
ler of  the  old  Baronet  was  to  go  with  us  and  provide  post- 
horses  and  everything  we  could  want  at  inns  upon  the  road, 
and,  under  this  kind  and  luxurious  provision,  we  took  seat 
beside  Miss  Porter,  and  visited  Kenilworth,  Warwick,  and 
SUatford,  with  no  thought  or  care  which  need  divide  our 
pleasure  in  her  society.  From  the  description  of  this  journey 
(given  without  mention  of  the  above  circumstances,)  let  us 
copy  one  more  passage  : — 

"  I  had   wandered  away  from  my  companion,  Miss  Jane 


JANE  PORTER.  ^jg 


Porter,  to  climb  up  a  secret  staircase  in  the  wall,  nithor  too 
difficult  of  ascent  for  a  female  foot,  and  from  my  elevated 
position  I  caught  an  accidental  view  of  that  distinguished  lady 
through  the  arch  of  a  Gothic  window,  with  a  background  of 
broken  architecture  and  foliage — presenting,  by  chance,  per. 
haps,  the  most  fitting  and  admirable  picture  of  the  authoress 
of  the  "  Scottish  Chiefs,"  that  a  painter  in  his  brightest  hour 
could  have  fancied.  Miss  Porter,  with  her  tall  and  striking 
figure,  her  noble  face  (said  by  Mr.  Martin  Shee  to  have  ap- 
proached nearer  in  its  youth  to  his  beau  ideal  of  the  female 
features  than  any  other,  and  still  possessing  the  remains  of 
uncommon  beauty,)  is  at  all  times  a  person  whom  it  would 
be  difficult  to  see  without  a  feeling  of  involuntary  admiration. 
But  standing,  as  I  saw  her  at  that  moment,  motionless  and 
erect,  in  the  morning  dress,  with  dark  feathers,  which  she  has 
worn  since  the  death  of  her  beloved  and  gifted  sister,  her 
wrists  folded  across,  her  large  and  still  beautiful  eyes  fixed 
on  a  distant  object  in  the  view,  and  her  nobly-cast  lineaments 
reposing  in  their  usual  calm  and  benevolent  tranquility,  while, 
around  and  above  her,  lay  the  material  and  breathed  the  spriti 
over  which  she  had  held  the  first  great  mastery — it  was  a 
tableau  vivant  which  I  was  sorry  to  be  alone  to  see. 

Was  she  thinking  of  the  great  mind  that  had  evoked  the 
spirits  of  the  ruins  she  stood  among — a  mind  in  which  (by 
Sir  Walter's  own  confession)  she  had  first  bared  the  vein  of 
romance  which  breathed  so  freely  for  the  world's  delight  ? 
where  the  visions  which  sweep  with  such  supernatural  dis- 
tinctness and  rapidity  through  the  imagination  of  genius — vis- 
ion of  v/hich  the  millionth  portion  is  probably  scarcely  com- 
municated to  the  world  in  a  literary  lifetime — were  Elizabeth's 


480  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


courtiers,  Elizabeth's  passions,  secret  hours,  interviews  with 
Leicester — were  the  imprisoned  king's  nights  of  loneliness 
and  dread,  his  hopes,  his  indignant,  but  unheeded  thoughts — 
were  all  the  possible  circumstances,  real  or  imaginary,  of  which 
that  proud  castle  might  have  been  the  scene,  thronging  in 
those  few  moments  of  revery  through  her  fancy  ?  or  was  her 
heart  busy  with  its  kindly  affections,  and  had  the  beauty  and 
interest  of  the  scene  but  awakened  a  thought  of  one  who  was 
most  wont  to  number  with  her  the  sands  of  those  brighter 
hours. 

"  Who  shall  say  ?  The  very  question  would  perhaps  startle 
the  thoughts  beyond  recall — so  illusive  are  even  the  most 
angelic  of  the  mind's  unseen  visitants  ?" 

In  another  place  we  made  the  following  memoranda  of  what 
we  knew  of  her  biography,  etc.  : — 

"  Miss  Porter  was  the  daughter  of  a  gallant  English  officer, 
who  died,  leaving  a  widow  and  four  children,  then  very  young, 
but  three  of  them  destined  to  remarkable  fame.  Sir  Robert 
Ker  Porter,  Jane  Porter,  and  Anna  Maria  Porter.  Sir 
Robert,  as  is  well  known,  was  the  celebrated  historical  painter, 
traveller  in  Persia,  soldier,  diplomatist,  and  author,  lately 
deceased.  He  went  to  Russia  with  one  of  his  great  pictures 
when  very  young,  married  a  wealthy  Russian  princess,  and 
passed  his  subsequent  years  between  the  camp  and  diplomacy, 
honored  and  admired  in  every  station  and  relation  of  his  life. 
The  two  girls  were  playmates  and  neighbors  of  Walter  Scott. 
Jane  published  her  "  Scottish  Chiefs,"  at  the  age  of  eighteen, 
and   became   immediately   the   great  literary  wonder  of  her 


JANE  PORTER. 


481 


time.  Her  widowed  mother,  however,  withdrew  her  immedi- 
ately from  society  to  the  seclusion  of  a  country  town,  and  she 
was  little  seen  in  the  gay  world  of  London  before  several  of 
her  works  had  become  classics.  Anna  Maria,  the  second 
sister,  commenced  her  admirable  series  of  novels  soon  after 
the  first  celebrity  of  Jane's  works,  and  they  wrote  and  passed 
the  brightest  years  of  their  life  together  in  a  cottage  retreat. 
The  two  sisters  were  singularly  beautiful.  Sir  Thomas  Law- 
rence was  an  unsuccessful  suitor  to  Anna  Maria,  and  Jane 
was  engaged  to  a  young  soldier  who  was  killed  in  the  Peninsula. 
She  is  a  woman  to  have  but  one  love  in  a  lifetime.  Her 
betrothed  was  killed  when  she  was  twenty  years  of  age,  and 
she  has  ever  since  worn  mourninor,  and  remained  true  to  his 
memory.  Jane  is  now  the  only  survivor  of  the  three ;  her 
admirable  mother  and  her  sister  having  died  some  twelve  or  four- 
teen years  ago,  and  Sir  Robert  having  died  lately,  while  revisit- 
ing England  after  many^ years'  diplomatic  residence  in  Venez- 
uela. 

Miss  Porter  is  now  near  seventy.  She  has  suffered  within 
the  last  two  or  three  years  from  ill  health,  but  she  is  still  erect, 
graceful,  and  majestic  in  person  and  still  possessed  of  admirable 
beauty  of  countenance.  Her  large  dark  eyes  have  a  striking 
lambency  of  lustre,  her  smile  inspires  love  in  all  who  see  her, 
and  her  habit  of  mind,  up  to  the  time  we  last  saw  her, 
(three  or  four  years  ago,)  was  that  of  reflecting  the  mood  of 
others  in  conversation^  thinking  never  of  herself,  and  endeavor- 
ing only  to  make  others  zhine^  and  all  this  with  a  tact,  a  play- 
fulness and  simplicity,  an  occasional  unconscious  brilliancy 
and  penetration,  which  have  made  her,  up  to  seventy  years 
of  age,  a  most  interesting,  engaging,  and  lovely  woman.  Con 
21 


4S2  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

sidering  the  extent  of  her  charm,  over  old  and  young,  titled 
and  humble,  masters  and  servants,  we  sincerely  think  we  never 
have  seen  a  woman  so  beloved  and  so  fascinating.  She  is  the 
idol  of  many  different  circles  of  very  high  rank,  and  passes  her 
time  in  yielding,  month  after  month,  to  pressing  invitations 
from  the  friends  who  love  her.  The  dowager  queen 
Adelaide  is  one  of  her  warmest  friends,  the  highest  families 
of  nobility  contend  for  her  as  a  resident  guest,  distinguished 
and  noble  foreigners  pay  court  to  her  invariably  on  arriving 
in  England,  she  has  been  ennobled  by  a  decree  of  the  king  of 
Prussia,  and  with  all  this  weight  of  honor  on  her  head,  you 
might  pass  weeks  with  her  (ignorant  of  her  history)  without 
suspecting  her  to  be  more  than  the  loveliest  of  women  past 
their  prime,  and  born  but  to  grace  a  contented  mediocrity  of 
Btation." 

We  know  nothing  more  to  the  honor  of  the  English 
nobility  of  this  day,  than  that  Jane  Porter — such  as  she  was 
— should  have  chosen  and  cherished  the  greater  number  of 
her  friendships  from  among  them.  Utterly  incapable  of  a 
servility  or  an  obsequiousness  as  her  gifted  and  lofty  nature 
was  always  admitted  to  be,  she  still  moved  in  the  highest 
sphere  of  rank,  with  sympathies  all  expanded,  and  the  imprint 
of  congeniality,  with  all  around  her,  stamped  upon  counten- 
ance and  mien.  Yet  she  had  mingled,  more  or  less,  with  all 
classes,  and  knew  the  world  well.  Had  she  found  it  neces- 
sary to  sacrifice  the  slightest  shadow  of  purity  or  indepen- 
dence to  retain  her  position,  or  had  she  believed,  or 
coDJectnred,  that  purer  or  simpler  natures  were  to  be  found 
in  the  ranks  below,  she  was  not  one  to  hesitate  or  compromise 


JANE  PORTER. 


488 


for  an  instant.  But,  with  the  intuitive  perceptions  of  genius, 
and  a  disposition  as  open  as  the  day,  she  chose  this  for  her 
sphere,  and  lived  in  it  as  one  who  had  no  thought  or  need  of 
managements,  either  to  belong  to,  or  to  grace  it.  The  class 
of  society,  in  a  country,  with  which  simple  and  proud  genius 
finds  itself  most  at  home,  is  its  superior  and  true  nobility ; 
and,  that  England's  circles  of  high  rank  are  so  preferred,  and 
so  honored  and  brightened,  by  spirits  like  Jane  Porter,  is,  we 
think,  the  evidence  that  proves  most  for  England's  present 
civilization  and  glory. 


OLE  BULL'S  NIAGARA. 


(an  hour  before  the  performance.) 

Saddle,  as,  of  course,  we  are,  under  any  very  striking 
event,  we  find  ourselves  bestridden,  now  and  then,  with  a 
much  wider  occupancy  than  the  plumb-line  of  a  newspaper 
column.  Ole  Bull  possesses  us  over  our  tea-table ;  he  will 
possess  us  over  our  supper- table — his  performance  of  Niagara 
equi-distant  between  the  two.  We  must  think  of  him  and 
his  violin  for  this  coming  hour.  Let  us  take  pen  and  ink  into 
our  confidence. 

The  "origin  of  the  harp"  has  been  satisfactorily  recorded. 
We  shall  not  pretend  to  put  forward  a  credible  story  of  the 
origin  of  the  violin  ;  hut  we  wish  to  name  a  circumstance  in 
natural  history.    The  house-cricket  that  chirps  upon  our  hearth, 

[484] 


OLE   BULL. 


485 


is  well  known  as  belonging  to  the  genus  Pneumora.  Its  in- 
sect size  consists  almost  entirely  of  a  pellucid  abdomen,  cross- 
ed with  a  number  of  transverse  ridges.  This,  when  inflated, 
resembles  a  bladder,  and  upon  its  tightened  ridges  the  insect 
plays  like  a  fiddler,  by  drawing  its  thin  legs  over  them.  The 
cricket  is,  in  fact,  a  living  violin  ;  and  as  a  fiddler  is  "  scarce 
himself"  without  his  violin,  we  may  call  the  cricket  a  stray 
portion  of  a  fiddler. 

Ole  Bull  <'is  himself"  with  his  violin  before  him — but  with- 
out it,  the  commonest  eye  must  remark  that  he  is  of  the 
invariable  build  of  the  restless  searchers  after  something  lost 
— the  build  of  enthusiasts — that  is  to  say,  chest  enormous, 
and  stomachy  if  anything^  rather  wanting  I  The  great  musi- 
cian of  Scripture,  it  will  be  remembered^  expressed  his  mere 
mental  afifliction  by  calling  out  "  My  bowels  I  my  bowels  1" 
and,  after  various  experiments  on  twisted  silk,  smeared  with 
the  white  of  eggs,  and  on  single  threads  of  the  silk-worm, 
passed  through  heated  oil,  the  animal  fibre  of  cat-gut  has 
proved  to  be  the  only  string  that  answers  to  the  want  of  the 
musician.  Without  trying  to  reduce  these  natural  phenom- 
ena to  a  theory  (except  by  suggesting  that  Ole  Bull  may  very 
properly  take  the  cricket  as  an  emblem  of  his  instinctive  pur- 
suit), we  must  yield  to  an  ominous  foreboding  for  this  even- 
ing. The  objection  to  cat-gut  as  a  musical  string  is  its 
sensibility  to  moisture :  and  in  a  damp  atmosphere  it  is  next 
to  impossible  to  keep  it  in  tune.  The  string  comes  honestly 
enough  by  its  sensitiveness  (as  any  one  will  allow  who  has 
seen  a  cat  cross  a  street  after  a  shower) — but,  if  the  cat  of 
Ole  Bull's  violin  had  the  least  particle  of  imagination  in  her, 


486        FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


can  what  is  left  of  her  be  expected  to  discourse  lovingly  of 
her  natural  antipathy — a  water-fa\\  ? 

But — before  we  draw  on  our  gloves  to  go  over  to  Palmo's 
— a  serious  word  as  what  is  to  be  attempted  to-night. 

01  e  Bull  is  a  great  creature.  He  is  fitted,  if  ever  mortal 
man  was,  to  represent  the  attendant  spirit  in  Milton,  who 

"  Well  knew  to  still  the  wild  woods  when  they  roared 
And  hush  the  moaning  winds  ;" 

but  it  seems  to  us  that,  without  a  printed  programme,  show- 
ing what  he  intends  to  express  besides  the  mere  sound  of  waters 
he  is  trusting  far  too  rashly  to  the  comprehension  of  his  au- 
dience and  their  power  of  musical  interpretation.  He  is  to 
tell  a  story  by  music  !     Will  it  be  understood  ? 

"We  remember  being  very  much  astonished,  a  year  or  two 
ago,  at  finding  ourself  able  to  read  the  thoughts  of  a  lady  of 
this  city,  as  she  expressed  them  in  an  admirable  improvisation 
upon  the  piano.  The  delight  we  experienced  in  this  surprise 
induced  us  to  look  into  the  extent  to  which  musical  meaning 
had  been  perfected  in  Europe.  We  found  it  recorded  that 
a  Mons.  Sudre,  a  violinist  of  Paris,  had  once  brought  the  ex- 
pression of  his  instrument  to  so  nice  a  point  that  he  "  could 
convey  information  to  a  stranger  in  another  room,"  and  it  is 
added  that,  upon  the  evidence  thus  given  of  the  capability  of 
music,  it  was  proposed  to  the  French  government  to  educate 
military  bands  in  the  expression  of  orders  and  heroic  encourage- 
ments in  battle  !  Hayden  is  criticised  by  a  writer  on  music 
as  having  failed  in  attempting  (in  his  great  composition  "  The 
Seasons")  to  express  "  the  dawn  of  day,"  "  the  husbandman's 
satisfaction,"  **  the  rustling  of  leaves,"    "  the    running    of  a 


OLE   BULL. 


487 


brook,"  "  the  coming  on  of  winter,"  "  thick  fogs,"  etc.,  etc. 
The  same  writer  laughs  at  a  commentator  on  Mozart,  who, 
by  a  "second  violin  quartette  in  D  minor,"  imagines  himself 
informed  how  a  loving  female  felt  on  being  abandoned,  and 
thought  the  music  fully  expressed  that  it  was  Dido  !  Beeth- 
oven undertook  to  convey  distinct  pictures  in  his  famous 
Pastoral  Symphony,  but  it  was  thought  at  the  time  that  no 
one  would  have  distinguished  between  his  musical  sensa- 
tions on  visiting  the  country  and  his  musical  sensations  while 
sitting  beside  a  river — unless  previously  told  what  was  com- 
ing ! 

Still,  Ole  Bull  is  of  a  primary  order  of  genius,  and  he  is  not 
to  wait  upon  precedent.  He  has  come  to  our  country,  an  in- 
spired wanderer  from  a  far  away  shore,  and  our  greatest 
scenic  feature  has  called  on  him  for  an  expression  of  its  won- 
ders in  music.  He  may  be  inspired,  however,  and  we,  who 
listen,  still  be  disappointed.  He  may  not  have  felt  Niagara 
as  we  did.  He  may  have  been  subdued  where  a  meaner  spirit 
would  be  aroused — as 

«♦  Fools  rush,  in  where  angels  fear  to  tread." 

{Seven  o^ clock,  and  time  to  go.) 


(after  the  performance.) 

We  believe  that  we  have  heard  a  transfusion  into  music — 
not  of  "  Niagara,"  which  the  audience  seemed  bona-fide  to 
expect,  but — of  the  pulses  of  the  human  heart  at  Niagara. 
We  had  a  prophetic  boding  of  the  result  of  calling  the  piece 
vaguely  "  Niagara" — the  listener  furnished  with  no    "  argu- 


488  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLAGES. 


ment,"  as  a  guide  through  the  wilderness  of  "  treatment"  to 
which  the  subject  was  open.  This  mistake  allowed,  however, 
it  must  be  said  that  Ole  Bull  has,  genius-like,  refused  to  mis- 
interpret the  voice  within  him — refused  to  play  the  charlatan, 
and  "  bring  the  house  down" — as  he  might  well  have  done  by 
any  kind  of  ^^  uttermost ^^^  from  the  drums  and  trumpets  of  the  or- 
chestra. 

The  eniotion  at  Niagara  is  all  but  mute.  It  is  a  "  small, 
still  voice"  that  replies  within  us  to  the  thunder  of  waters. 
The  musical  mission  of  the  Norwegian  was  to  represent  the 
insensate  element  as  it  was  to  him — to  a  human  soul,  stirred 
in  its  seldom-reached  depths  by  the  call  of  power.  It  was 
the  answer  to  Niagara  that  he  endeavored  to  render  in  music 
— not  the  call!  We  defer  attempting  to  read  further,  or 
rightly,  this  musical  composition  till  we  have  heard  it  again. 
It  was  received  by  a  crowded  audience,  in  breathless  silence, 
but  with  no  applause. 


DR.  LARDNER'S  LECTURE. 


We  did  not  chance  to  hear  Dr.  Lardner's  excellent  and 
amusing  lecture  on  the  "  London  literati^''''  etc.,  but  the  re- 
port of  it  in  the  "Republic"  has  scraped  the  moss  from  one 
corner  of  our  memory,  and  we  may,  perhaps,  aid  in  the  true 
portraiture  of  one  or  two  distinguished  men  by  showing  a 
shade  or  two  in  which  our  observation  of  them  differed  from 
that  of  the  Doctor.  We  may  remark  here,  that  Dr.  Lardner 
has  been  conversant  with  all  the  wits  and  scholars  of  Eng- 
land for  the  last  two  or  three  lustrums,  and  we  w^ould  suggest 
to  him  that,  with  the  freedom  given  him  by  withdrawal  from 
their  sphere,  he  might  give  us  a  book  of  anecdotical  biogra- 
phy that  would  have  a  prosperous  sale  and  be  both  instruc- 
tive and  amusing.  We  shall  not  poach  upon  the  doctor's 
21*  f489J 


490  FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 


manor,  by  the  way,  if  we  give  our  impression  of  one  of  these 
literati — himself — as  he  appeared  to  us,  once  in   very  distin- 
guished company,  in  Engand.     We  were  in    a  ball    in   the 
height  of  the  season,  at    Brighton.     Somewhere    about   the 
later  hours,  we  chanced  to  be  in  attendance  upon  a  noble  lady, 
in  company  with  two  celebrated    men.      Mr.    Ricardo    and 
Horace  Smith  (the  author  of  Brambletye  House,  and  Rejected 
Addresses),  Lady  Stepney,  authoress  of  the  "  New  Eoad  to 
Ruin,"  approached  our  charming  centre  of  attraction   with  a 
proposition  to  present  to  her  the  celebrated  Dr,   Lardner. 
"  Yes,  my  dear  !  I  should  like  to  know  him  of  all  things  !" 
was  the  reply,  and  the  doctor  was  conjured  forthwith   into  a 
magic  circle.     He  bowed  "  with  spectacles  on  nose,"  but   no 
other  extraneous  mark  of  philosopher  or  scholar.     We  shall 
not  offend  the  doctor  by  stating  that,  on  this  evening,  he  was 
a  very  diflferent  looking  person  from  his  present  practical  ex- 
terior.    With  showy  waistcoat,  black  tights,  fancy   stockings 
and  small  patent-leather  shoes,  he  appeared  to  us  an  elegant 
of  very  bright  water,  smacking  not  at  all,  in  manner  no  more 
than  in  dress,  of  the  smutch  and  toil  of  the  laboratory.     We 
looked  at  and  listened  to  him,  we  remember,  with  great  inter- 
est and  curiosity.     He  left  us  to  dance  a  quadrille,  and  finding 
ourself  accidentally  in  the  same  set,  we  looked  at  his  ornamen 
tal  and  lover  like  acquittal  of  himself  with  a  kind  of  wonder  at 
what  Minerva  would  say !     This  was  just  before  the  doctor 
left  England.     We  may  add  our  expression  of  pleasure  that 
the  Protean  facility  of  our  accomplished  and  learned  friend 
has  served  him  in  this  country — making  of  him  the  best  lec- 
turer on  all  subjects,  and  the  carver  out  of  prosperity  under 
a  wholly  new  meridian. 


DR.  LARDNER.  491 


But,  to  revert  to  the  report  of  the  Lecture  : — 
"  The  doctor  gave  some  very  amusing  descriptions  of  the 
personal  peculiarities  of  Bulwer  and  D'Israeli,  the  author  of 
'  Coningsby,'  observing  that  those  who  have  read  the  works 
of  tho  former,  would  naturally  conclude  him  to  be  very  fasci- 
nating in  private  society.  Such,  however,  was  not  the  case. 
He  had  not  a  particle  of  conversational  facility,  and  could  not 
utter  twelve  sentences  free  from  hesitation  and  embarrassment. 
In  fact,  Bulwer  was  only  Bulwer  when  his  pen  was  in  his  hand 
and  his  meerschaum  in  his  mouth.  He  is  intimate  with  Count 
D'Orsay,  one  of  the  handsomest  men  of  the  day,  and  in  hia 
excessive  admiration  of  that  gentleman  has  adopted  his  style 
of  dress,  which  is  adapted  admirably  to  the  figure  of  the  se- 
cond Beau  Brummell,  but  sits  strangely  on  the  feeble,  rickety 
and  skeleton  form,  of  the  man  of  genius." 

Now  it  struck  us,  on  the  contrary,  that  there  was  no  more 
playful,  animated, /ac^7e  creature  in  London  society  than  Bul- 
wer. He  seemed  to  have  a  horror  of  stilted  topics,  it  is  true, 
and  never  mingled  in  general  conversation  unless  merrily. 
But  at  Lady  Blessington's,  where  there  was  but  one  woman 
present  (herself),  and  where,  consequently,  there  could  be  no 
txtes-a-teteSj  Bulwer 's  entrance  was  the  certain  precursor  of 
fun.  He  was  a  brilliant  rattle,  and  as  to  any  "  hesitation  and 
embarrassment,"  we  never  saw  a  symptom  of  it.  At  evening 
parties  in  other  houses,  Bulwer's  powers  of  conversation  could 
scarce  be  fairly  judged,  for  his  system  of  attention  is  very 
concentrative,  and  he  was  generally  deep  in  conversation  with 
some  one  beautiful  woman  whom  he  could  engross.  We  dif- 
fer from  the  doctor,  too,  as  to  his  style  of  dandyism.  Sprea- 
dy  upper  works,  trousers  closely  fitting  to  the  leg,  a  broad- 


492        FAMOUS  PERSONS  AND  PLACES. 

brimmed  bat,  and  cornucopial  whiskers,  distinguished  D'Or- 
say,  while  Bulwer  wore  always  the  loose  French  pantaloon,  a 
measurable  hat-brim,  and  w^hiskers  carefully  limited  to  the 
cheek.  We  pronounced  the  doctor's  astrology  (as  to*  the 
stars)  based  upon  an  error  in  "  observatiou." 

The  reporter  adds  : — 

"  D'Israeli  he  described  as  an  affected  coxcomb,  with  a 
restless  desire  to  appear  witty ;  yet  he  never  remembered  him 
to  have  said  a  good  thing  in  his  life  except  one,  and  that  was 
generally  repeated  with  the  preface,  *  D'Israeli  has  said  a 
good  thing  at  last.'  " 

That  D'Israeli  is  not  a  "  bon-mot"  man,  is  doubtless  true. 
It  never  struck  us  that  he  manifested  a  "  desire  to  appear 
witty."  He  is  very  silent  in  the  general  w-elee  of  conversation, 
but  we  have  never  yet  seen  him  leave  a  room  before  he  had 
made  an  impression  by  some  burst  in  the  way  oi!  monologue — 
either  an  eloquent  description  or  a  dashing  new  absurdity, 
an  anecdote  or  a  criticism.  He  sits  indolently  with  his  head 
on  his  breast,  taking  sight  through  his  eyebrows  till  he  finda 
his  cue  to  break  in,  and  as  far  as  our  observation  goes,  nobody 
was  ever  willing  to  interrupt  him.  The  doctor  calls  him  an 
"  affected  coxcomb,"  but  it  is  only  of  his  dress  that  this  is 
any  way  true.  No  schoolboy  is  more  frank  in  his  manners. 
When  we  were  first  in  London,  he  was  the  immortal  tenant 
of  one  room  and  a  recess,  and  with  manners  indolently  pensive. 
Three  years  after,  returning  to  England,  we  found  him  master 
of  a  lordly  establishment  on  Hyde  Park,  and,  except  that  he 
looked  of  a  less  lively  melancholy,  his  manners  were  as  un- 
troubled with  affectation  as  before. 


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